The Long Halloween
by pago
Summary: AU, OCs. All Hollow's Eve, perhaps better known as Halloween, is the one night of the year when the natural boundaries between the realms of life and death are at their weakest. For humans, it's a celebration built around myth. For the shinigami, it's the single busiest night of the year. For a group of violent prisoners in Hell, it's an opportunity that can't be ignored.
1. Welcome to Hell

_**Author's Note I:** First things first; this story is set in the same AU I established in my previous stories, starting with Winter War. If you have not read any of these prior works, you may be confused as to who new characters are and how they got to their current places. Yes, there will be a few OCs. There. Now, with that said, I was highly disappointed with the Hell Verse movie; great action, but the plot never really made any kind of sense. Their plan to escape Hell was to...escape Hell, kidnap Ichigo's sister, return to Hell, wait for him to come rescue her and go berserk so he could destroy the gates and chains of Hell and then they could finally escape Hell...wait, what? So here we are, ladies and gentlemen, the revised Hell Verse for my little AU._

**Welcome to Hell**

Eternity.

A simple word whose true meaning was often misunderstood or ignored by the average person. It was a simple word that was so easy to dismiss by those who did pause to consider it because the very notion of something being timeless or never-ending was ludicrous; everything, absolutely _everything_, had a beginning and an end, after all.

It was certainly a word that Kokutō had never given serious consideration to during the course of his life. Like so many others, it had been a pointless word, a lie that held no meaning because nothing was eternal.

He had a different opinion _now_, of course…

Try as he might, Kokutō couldn't recall just how long he'd been trapped in this infernal pit of damnation and suffering; a thousand years, maybe? Two? All he knew for certain was that it had been a long time, far longer than anyone else he'd encountered.

On some level, he recognized that his extended stay was his own fault; bucking the system was always a sure-fire way to earn the ire of those in charge, and few had raged against the powers that be harder than Kokutō.

He had the scars to prove it, with the right side of his face and body horribly burned beyond repair, a constant reminder of how he'd foolishly tried to fight his way free of the pits.

To challenge the Kushanāda, the titanic guardians of Hell, was to lose.

Their power was unmatched and the only thing that had saved Kokutō from total annihilation had been that the great beasts lacked any sort of speed whatsoever, making it comparatively easy to escape them.

Of course, the problem was that there were _thousands_ of them guarding Hell and what one Kushanāda saw, they _all_ knew about it. They seemed to operate like some sort of hive mind, and while it was easy to outrun one, you would soon find yourself cornered by another.

The few who had fought harder than Kokutō were all gone now, some devoured by the great hell beasts while others had been cast into the fiery pits where their souls were incinerated into nothingness, never again to re-enter the cycle of reincarnation.

For those who kept quiet and endured their suffering in silence, their stay in Hell would come to a merciful end when a Kushanāda could come to an individual and, with a surprising gentleness given their fierce power and great size, extend a single finger to touch the chosen soul on the head. With a sigh of relief, the soul in question would begin to glow a faint blue and then slowly fade out as they exited Hell and re-entered the living world as a reincarnated being.

For Kokutō and others like him, however, they had long ago forfeited their right to ever be forgiven and reborn.

Eternity finally had meaning.

Eternity was his sentence in Hell.

Eternity was unacceptable.

He had given up on open conflict with the Kushanāda some time ago; centuries ago, most likely, but time was impossible to judge in Hell. He had given up fighting, but he had not yet given up his hopes for escape.

He was on the proverbial shit-list with the Kushanāda, he knew that; if they were to ever find him, he would be destroyed like so many others before him. It had become necessary to keep a low profile, to stay hidden in shadows and cover his face in scavenged bandages, black as night, to hide his unmistakable burns. He kept his head down when any of the great guardians were near, pretending to be one of the broken and despondent masses who had lost all hope.

In truth, he was nothing like the majority of the souls in Hell; his hope still burned bright and he was determined to escape the underworld and know freedom once again, freedom on _his_ terms, not by playing nice and hoping to one day receive absolution for his sins.

Since his last great battle against the skull-faced Kushanāda, he had begun to study the dread beasts in detail: how they moved, how they fought, how they acted, how they regenerated, how they responded to riots that may or may not have been incited by a shadowy figure hiding in the background.

He had begun to seek out other souls who had knowledge that he lacked, knowledge of the realms beyond Hell and Earth. He'd learned all about the Soul Society and of Hueco Mundo, about the Seireitei and Los Noches, and of shinigami and hollows. He'd learned of the war with the hollows and the destruction of Los Noches and an idea had formed in his head.

By all accounts, the shinigami were the _true _power in the afterlife, the ones who held real, genuine power over life and death. Unlike the world of the living, the Soul Society and the Seireitei were beyond the reach of the Kushanāda, and it was said to be a beautiful, peaceful place.

Heaven.

Kokutō had every intention of claiming it all for himself.

The war had cost the shinigami dearly, with some reports suggesting as much as _half_ of their fighting forces had been killed by the hollows. If that information was even remotely accurate, it would take the shinigami several decades to rebuild their forces, which meant they were currently vulnerable to outside attack.

And every year, for one single night, they were _more _vulnerable than ever as they would send the majority of their forces to the world of the living in a futile effort to stymy a feeding frenzy of hollows.

New souls came into Hell on a daily basis and in order to keep track of what day it was, Kokutō had stationed a loyal underling near the central "processing area" where new souls appeared and his sole job was to question the fresh arrivals about the date of their passing.

The night in question was fast approaching, but Kokutō had been meticulously setting everything up for years now and he'd be ready when it finally came.

Halloween, the one night of the year when the forces that separated the world of the living from the various realms of the dead would be at their weakest…

He intended to walk straight out through the massive gates of Hell and back into the world of the living. With the weakened barrier, it should be possible for a small army to push open the gargantuan gates and escape.

The Kushanāda's jurisdiction extended to the human world, however, so that would be but a brief stop before heading off to somewhere safer, somewhere beyond their reach, a place where Kokutō and his followers could catch their breath for a minute before launching their attack on the Seireitei.

Hueco Mundo was, by all accounts, a bleak and dreary Hell that was barely any better than the fiery nightmare they currently resided in, but it was outside the Kushanāda's reach and currently beyond the range of the Seireitei's monitor stations. It was a perfect staging area for an assault against the Soul Society.

All the pieces were finally falling into place; Kokutō had spent _years_ gathering like-minded individuals to his side, strong warriors who had nothing to lose by making one last, desperate gamble for escape. He'd even managed to recruit a couple of fallen arrancar to his side, including a former member of the famed Espada.

He'd even spent the last couple of years helping an old fool, a would-be king, establish himself as a "hero" or sorts to the other denizens of Hell, gently pushing him towards rising up against the Kushanāda in an all-out rebellion for control of the underworld when the time was right…

Ah, Baraggan Louisenbairn, the former God-King of Hueco Mundo….

Like Kokutō, the king had raged against the Kushanāda hard, had actually managed to kill one before others came to investigate the disturbance and put down the angry arrancar, and he had escaped by the skin of his teeth…well, that and his loyal followers, his "fracción" sacrificing themselves so that he could flee to safety.

Baraggan had been the first soul for hundreds of years to challenge the Kushanāda and survive, making him an instant legend among the downtrodden souls of Hell who began looking to him as if he were suddenly their king.

Kokutō himself had killed more than a few of the guardians in centuries past, but after his last encounter had left him scarred and nearly dead, he had seen the wisdom in laying low and letting people forget about him.

Baraggan was a miserable little piss ant, but his lust for power and attention made him valuable to Kokutō, who had managed to ingratiate himself into the king's court as the chief advisor.

It had been easy to fill Baraggan's head with the idea of destroying the Kushanāda and taking over Hell; so eager was he to be a king once more that Baraggan had neglected to even consider _why_ no one had ever attempted such a feat before. He had blinded himself to the notion that his goals were completely and utterly impossible, no matter how many fools followed him and no matter how many of the great guardians they slew.

The Kushanāda never actually _stayed_ dead; those that were slain were immediately reborn, crawling out of the nearest molten pit with renewed strength and vigor.

But Baraggan didn't need to know that little detail.

He was, after all, expendable.

Kokutō's loyal followers had been spreading Baraggan's story to the far corners of Hell, exaggerating it with each retelling to make Baraggan out to be a juggernaut who could help them overthrow the guardians and cast off their shackles. The hopeless suddenly had hope and they believed that if they served Baraggan when the call went out, that they could truly succeed.

Fools.

Kokutō wasn't concerned with the fact that the rebellion would fail or that countless millions of souls would be shredded into oblivion for daring to challenge the Kushanāda; all he cared about was that they dutifully play their part like good little pawns and provide a sufficient distraction for his escape.

Freedom wasn't free and if his freedom meant sacrificing tens of millions of ignorant souls, then so be it.

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

_**Author's Note II:** Well, now that we have my lengthy warning and the opening chapter out of the way, I can say a few more things. _

_I do not know how long this story will be; I have been mulling it over in my head for a long time now, since shortly after I finished Espada's Masquerade. As of this writing, I have the first five chapters done and will be uploading a new one every few days until I'm caught up. I hope to have chapter six done within the next couple of days and chapter seven shortly thereafter. I hope to be finished shortly after Halloween but nothing every really goes according to plan, so if you haven't read Winter War, Espada's Masquerade, and the two shorts that followed, you have plenty of time (and are encouraged) to catch up._

_This will be nothing like the Hell Verse movie, of course; different characters, a different plot that hopefully makes a wee bit more sense..._

_As always, feedback is encouraged and highly-appreciated._


	2. Preparations

**Preparations**

"All the pieces are in place, Great King; all that remains is for the fated day to arrive and you to but give the command."

Baraggan Louisenbairn sat on his throne of bones as he digested this information, his ancient face impassive as Kokutō and the rest of the court waited for him to reply. A large hand slowly raised it's way up to his face and began to stroke his chin as he considered the words and the implications, considered the knowledge that virtually every soul in Hell had willfully pledged their allegiance to him.

Kokutō _hated_ playing the part of a measly advisor subservient to some self-important fool who'd already failed to maintain control over one kingdom and now sought to control another, but it was a necessary evil; Baraggan may have been a pawn, but he was one of the most important pawns in the game and Kokutō had to keep him happy.

For now, anyway.

"Perhaps," Baraggan announced slowly, finally, "we should reschedule the uprising. I've been planning this for years now and if the Kushanāda have learned of it, they could be waiting. We need the element of surprise on our side if I am to conquer this infernal pit and bring it under my rule."

"Great King, if the guardians knew what we were planning, they would already be taking steps to prevent it," Kokutō said, straining to keep his irritation from showing; pawns weren't supposed to _think_, damn it, especially about rescheduling a very time-sensitive plan. "They would be massacring souls by the tens of thousands daily, shredding them into oblivion. They would be tearing Hell itself asunder to find you, Great King, and stop you. The fact they are going about business as usual means they are oblivious."

"The Kushanāda aren't known for their patience," someone else offered. "They would not wait for us to act first if they knew. It is as Kokutō says, my King; they know nothing of your plans."

Well, at least _one_ ignorant pawn was dutifully playing his part…

"Great King, I do not think we can afford to simply _reschedule _the rebellion at this point," Kokutō jumped in quickly. "Many would-be rulers before you have promised great change in the past and then backed out, never to be heard from again… If you attempt to change the plans now, you will lose many of your supporters; they will assume that you lack conviction, my liege, and-"

"I lack _nothing_!" Baraggan declared loudly, rising from his throne in anger. Kokutō made a show of backing away and taking a knee, pretending to cower in fear of the former Espada's wrath. "I _will_ be king of this realm and these souls _will_ serve me! Those who do not will be punished severely once I have control of Hell and all will know that _I _am the one true God in this place!"

"Then, Great King, shall I assume that we will proceed as you have planned?" asked Kokutō, not daring to make eye contact to complete the illusion of being a weak, broken down soul who trembled before the might of the former God-King of Hueco Mundo.

"Yes, Kokutō; we shall proceed with the war exactly as I have planned," rumbled Baraggan as he sat back down, and Kokutō bit his tongue to keep his pride from pointing out what it was actually _his_ plan and his alone. "In a few days, a new regime shall rule Hell."

"Then I shall pass the word along to your loyal followers to make ready for war."

"Good," was Baraggan's pompous reply as he dismissed Kokutō with a wave of his hand. The scarred _Togabito_ bowed humbly before Baraggan once more, slowly backing away and exiting the cave that had become Baraggan's makeshift throne room.

_ Arrogant fool_, thought Kokutō disdainfully. If Baraggan wasn't so necessary to the plan, he'd happily tear his head from his fat body and personally feed it to the hell beasts that lived in the deeper pits.

"Did you have a good meeting with our _beloved_ king?" asked a mocking voice as Kokutō exited the cave, prompting him to scowl deeply as he cast a glance over at the tall, slender man leaning against the rock wall.

"Be silent, you fool!" hissed Kokutō. "We don't need someone actually _loyal_ to Baraggan to overhear and report you for your insolent tongue."

"Ain't no one here but you, me, and my idiot servant," scoffed the taller man, slinging his massive weapon over his shoulder and falling into step beside Kokutō, the servant bringing up the rear. "You worry too much."

"I can't afford _not_ to worry," Kokutō growled. "I've waited too long for this moment to get careless now. Remember that, if you wish to be part of the _true_ plan."

"Oh, I'll remember, all right…" said his companion, narrowing his one good eye. "I can't _wait_ to get out and kill those goddamned shinigami who put me here."

"Then keep your mouth shut and do your part exactly as you've been instructed," ordered Kokutō coldly. "Be careful about who you speak to and be careful of _how_ you speak; if your petulant tongue ruins my plans, there will be no place in this infernal wasteland where I won't find you."

"Yeah, yeah; I'll be careful," promised the tall man bitterly. "I want out just as much as you do."

"No, you don't," corrected Kokutō. "No one does."

"Right… Well then, what do we do now?"

"Send your servant out to spread the word to Baraggan's loyal followers that everything is proceeding as planned and the attack remains on schedule," instructed Kokutō, and the third man who had been quietly, dutifully following along behind his master and his master's master, nodded wordlessly and broke away from the group.

"Done," said Nnoitra Gilga dismissively. "That all?"

"No…" Kokutō said, finally coming to a stop at a fork in the well-worn foot path. "I need you to go gather _my_ loyal followers and be waiting at the usual location; we have preparations of our own to make. I'll join everyone in a few hours."

"And what will _you_ be doing while I'm playing fetch?" asked Nnoitra irritably. The _togabito_ flashed a malicious grin.

"Recruiting."

* * *

In the long list of annoyances that came with the rank of Captain, the seemingly-endless amounts of paperwork was easily at the top. It didn't matter how many hours were spent meticulously checking, signing, and rechecking every form because they seemed to operate like the mythological hydra; for every one form completed and turned in, two more took its place.

Of course, the fact that he was doing both his share of the paperwork _and_ the lieutenant's could have been the real root of the issue.

_ And that's _another_ problem with that green-haired wench,_ came the perpetually-bitchy voice of his zanpaktou, _Kage Shitsukoi_.

"Don't start," sighed Anrak Ushii as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the migraine he knew to be coming.

_ If she were half the woman you think she is, she'd be here and_-

"You're omitting the fact that I _gave_ _her the day off _from her normal duties," growled the captain as he signed his name to another document and moved it over to the stack of completed forms. "She took care of everything by herself Monday when I was stuck in that infernal meeting for twelve freaking hours, so it's only fair."

_ Fair? _scoffed Kagi. _Who cares if it's fair or not? You're the captain, you make the rules and her job, her _only_ job, is to obey!_

"You mean like you _don't_?" asked the captain irritably, setting his pen down and leaning back in his seat as he stretched. "If you want to make yourself _useful_ for a change, you could try singing quietly and letting me focus on my work."

_ I'll sing when _I _feel like it, not when _you_ feel like it, baka._

A knock at the office door mercifully interrupted Kagi's bitching and Anrak looked up in time to see Renji Abarai, captain of Squad 5, enter and unceremoniously flop down on the small couch in the corner. The redhead looked exhausted and annoyed, as if the day had been nothing but one pain in the ass after another.

Anrak could sympathize with that.

"I swear I'm going to kill them," Renji said from his spot lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. "I really think I mean it this time. I just want to _strangle_ them!"

"Takk and Satsu?" guessed Anrak, referring to the twins under Renji's command. They were good kids and they meant well, but they did tend to tax one's nerves to no end.

"The _entire_ squad," growled Renji. "They're all so worked up over the idea of throwing a party before All Hollow's Eve that they can't focus on anything else! Every time I turn around, I'm getting ambushed with questions on what's allowed, who's allowed, how long it'll be… I can't even lead them through their _drills_ without getting bombarded with questions!"

"Bet the lieutenant is even more annoyed than you, then… He doesn't seem to play well with others."

"Which is why they're all _avoiding_ him and pestering me!' complained Renji as he rubbed his face with his hands. "I can't take it anymore; I just had to get away before they drive me crazy."

"Er," Anrak corrected his friend with a wry smile, "_crazier_."

"Don't you start on me, too…" growled the tattooed shinigami. "I get enough of that crap from Ichigo and Rukia."

"Right…" grinned Anrak as he grabbed another form and began to read it. "Take some time and just relax; I don't think anyone will bother you here."

"Thanks," grunted Renji, letting out a long sigh as he relaxed. 'I suppose I should just be grateful that things are so peaceful that a stupid _party_ is the biggest concern on everyone's minds, shouldn't I?"

"That's how I'm looking at it," agreed the other captain.

_ Except that peace never lasts, baka._

* * *

There were countless thousands of trails snaking their way through every corner of Hell: some leading up into the volcanic mountains that sprouted up here and there, some led to small villages cobbled together from stone and bone, and others led into the pits and the deep underground, past rivers of molten lava that would sear the flesh from anyone foolish enough to get too close to them. Most of the pathways were well-worn from thousands of years of traffic of untold millions of souls, but there were a few trails that were harder to spot, even to someone with eyes as keen as Kokutō.

He was currently followed one such trail, a path less traveled than most others, knowing that at the end of it lay the single most dangerous individual in all of the afterlife. The "Old One" was spoken of throughout Hell in hushed tones, frightened whispers by the superstitious who sometimes referred to him as the true king of the underworld. By all accounts, The Old One did not seek trouble and seldom ventured outside of his chosen home, but he had been down here for ages and had shredded more of his fellow prisoners than anyone else.

The Old One, it was said, was one of the few souls that would never be pardoned. Some even said that the great guardian beasts themselves, the Kushanāda, feared him.

Kokutō hoped it was all true, that every last myth and legend about The Old One was frighteningly accurate. If such an individual could be persuaded to join the cause, then victory was assured.

The _togabito_ stepped around a bubbling pool of magma as he followed the trail, heading deeper into the mountains and leaving the unending sound of thousands of souls screaming in torment further behind. According to legend, The Old One lived in a cave at the peak of the tallest mountain, beyond the sounds of screaming and beyond the heat of the rivers of magma. It was said that all of Hell was visible from his doorstep, that he saw everything that occurred with more clarity than even the Kushanāda.

Kokutō paused and looked out at all that stretched below him and he began to suspect that at least that part of the legend was accurate; at this altitude, even the massive guardians looked like insects as they wandered about the domain. It gave him hope that the rest of the myths were true as well, hope and a tiny shard of fear nestled deep within his being.

The Old One did not take kindly to visitors.

Supposedly, he had shredded untold thousands of souls that had come seeking him out: some had wanted to challenge him, some had wanted to ally with him, and others had simply been curious to see if he was real or not.

None had ever returned from the mountain.

Kokutō was not like the others, he knew this; he was stronger, faster, and tougher than anyone else in the pits of the damned.

Though by all accounts, The Old One was stronger still.

Some time ago, one of Kokutō's loyal followers had ventured into the mountain to try and disprove the legend, hoping to claim the cave for himself as a laboratory of sorts.

That was the last time Kokutō had seen Szayelaporro Granz, the late _octava_ Espada in Sōsuke Aizen's grand army.

Bones littered the sides of the dirt trail now, the remains of souls who had been torn asunder, shredded into oblivion so that they would never again re-enter the great cycle of reincarnation. Some were whole while others had been broken and shattered and as he continued along the trail, Kokutō noticed that the path itself was changing. He knelt down for a closer look, running his fingers over the surface and realizing that it wasn't dirt or stone anymore.

"Bones…" he muttered.

The entire path was composed of nothing but bone fragments that had been crushed and ground into pavement underfoot, and the road of bones led deeper into the mountains still, snaking it's way up towards the peak of the tallest formation several kilometers away.

The shard of fear in his heart began to grow, but so too did his excitement.

* * *

There was nothing quite like the sight of three dozen young shinigami doing line drills. It was a simple thing, but it was one of the things that Anrak Ushii took great pleasure in. The mountain of paperwork had finally been finished and the first stop the captain had made after leaving the office was the dojo to observe his squad as they practiced.

Kiyone and Sentaro were leading the session, mercifully _not_ arguing with each other for a change, and Anrak suspected it had more to do with the recent talk he'd had with them about their overly-competitive behavior than it did with them actually maturing on their own. Still, it was a thing of beauty to behold; the two of them in perfect sync, leading thirty-plus younger students through basic _hakuda_ techniques.

The dojo was, in theory, large enough to accommodate up to a hundred students at once, though Anrak didn't quite think that would make for very efficient training given how little personal space each student would have. For now, though, it gave the considerably-smaller class plenty of room to practice without fear of bumping into each other. Six rows of six stood before Kiyone and Sentaro, each in a front stance with their left leg in the lead and their right in the back, dutifully mimicking their movements with absolute precision…

Well, not quite.

Anrak didn't expect them to all be perfect and he carefully walked down each row, inspecting each shinigami individually. Most were doing well enough, but he stopped in front of a nervous young man in the third row, fourth in his line, and watched him carefully for a few moments.

"Shinta, tighten your fist; if you hit someone like that, you'll break your fingers," he instructed firmly, grabbing the junior shinigami hand and forcibly molding his hands into proper position.

"Yes, Sir!" barked the younger man as Anrak stepped back and allowed him to resume practice.

Still the captain did not move on down the line.

"When you throw a front kick, pull your toes back; you need to strike with the ball of your foot, not your toes."

"Yes, Sir!"

"And I want full extension on that leg; all the way out and then back in, understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" cried Shinta, trying once more. Kick, punch, punch, and…

"Where are you aiming, Shinta?" asked Anrak. "Each time you throw a technique, you're landing them in a different spot. You need to focus on a single target."

"Yes, Sir!" answered Shinta as the captain moved to stand in front of him. Anrak held up his right hand at chest level, showing Shinta the palm.

"Right here," he instructed. "I want every technique you throw to land right here; not to either side, not above, and not below. Every strike needs to hit my palm."

"Yes, Sir!' acknowledged the shinigami. The cycle started again and the sound of Shinta's punches impacting the captain's hand could be heard throughout the dojo. Kick, punch, punch, kick, punch, punch… Anrak nodded in approval at his student and he finally stepped back to observe once more as Kiyone and Sentaro called out in unison for the group to switch feet, placing their right leg in front and the left in the rear. Kick, punch, punch, kick, punch, punch…

"Much better," Anrak praised the junior soul reaper.

"Thank you, Sir!'

With a nod to Shinta, Anrak continued his trek down the row, inspecting the others. He didn't fail to notice that several others had been watching his interactions with Shinta closely and as a result had corrected their own form to keep from being called out.

Good.

He slowly meandered through each row, correcting a handful of minor issues here and there before taking up a spot near the door. He patiently waited for Kiyone and Sentaro to look his way before giving them a nod, indicating it was time to end the line drills and move on to sparring practice.

There were four large circles marked on the dojo floor for sparring, though for today only two would be used; Kiyone and Sentaro each took a circle to supervise and began calling up students two at a time to test their mettle against one another as the captain looked on.

It was hard to resist the urge to step in sometimes and encourage them to hit each other harder, to be more aggressive with one another; while that had been the way of things during his tenure in Squad 11 and the same way Yoruichi had taught him underneath Sōkyoku Hill a century ago, it was _not_ the way of things in Squad 13 and he didn't want to encourage his pupils to hurt one another.

Anrak stood watching them for a few minutes more before quietly exiting the dojo, unwilling to wait until old habits forced their way to the surface and demanded he push the students to fight harder. Perhaps when they were all more experienced he would teach them the way he'd been taught, but not now.

The seated officers had already gotten a small taste of it before, though he'd been careful to avoid actually hurting anyone. Of course, they were expected to be able to handle tougher drills; the young soul reapers currently in the dojo were a long way from such lofty expectations.

Sometimes he wondered if he was taking it _too_ easy on them, if holding back was putting them at greater risk in the field.

_ Probably_, came Kagi's voice. _If you had been coddled that much, you'd have never survived the war_.

"There's no need for them to hurt themselves in practice," Anrak responded as he walked down the hall, the sounds of the students fighting fading into the distance. Within moments, the only sounds he could hear were his own footfalls on the hardwood floor as he headed for the Sword Hall and the group that would be practicing their _zanjutsu_ within.

_ Better for them to get hurt in practice and learn from it than to get hurt for real and _die_ from it._

"That is true…" conceded Anrak thoughtfully. "What's the old saying? In times of war, prepare for peace; in times of peace, prepare for war?"

_ Exactly. Maybe you're not that stupid after all, baka._

"Thanks," said the captain sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'll discuss toughening the regimen with the lieutenant-"

_ I take it back; you really _are_ that stupid._

Anrak sighed as his zanpaktou went off on a tirade about Neliel _again_ and tried to tune her out.

"Some things just never change…"

* * *

The trail of crushed bones ended at the mouth of a cave at the mountain's peak, an ominous black maw leading inside the mountain itself. Kokutō turned to look out across the nightmarish landscape one final time before entering the forbidding darkness. This high above the fires, not even the screams of the tormented could reach his ears and he could not feel the unbearable heat of the pits.

He turned away from the view and took a single step into the cave, determined to find The Old One.

In truth, he'd half-expected to be attacked the moment he set foot inside the cave.

When nothing happened, Kokutō took another step into the darkness, and another, and another… He strained his eyes in the pitch-black environment, wary of a possible ambush, but there was nothing. He reached his hands out cautiously for the stone walls of the cave, feeling his way along the corridor that led deep into the mountain.

Kokutō didn't know how long he'd been walking when he finally saw a light in the distance. Having finally become accustomed to the dark, the glow burned his eyes and forced him to squint, putting a hand up to shield himself from the light as he continued to move towards it. He slowly shuffled out of the black corridor into a large chamber that was softly-lit by a handful of small magma pools. Off to the far right, a narrow but steady stream of lava fell from the roof of the cave into a hole in the floor, adding to the soft orange glow of the room. It was hot, but not as uncomfortably hot as the lower pits.

There was an alcove on the far left wall some seven feet wide and at least half as tall, loaded down with what appeared to be animal skins and scraps of clothing that had no doubt been taken from shredded souls.

It was a bed, and the very presence of a bed meant that someone did indeed call this cave home.

There were a couple of openings in the back of the chamber, black tunnels leading even further into the mountain of fire. There was no one in this chamber, but surely The Old One had to be in one of those corridors…

Kokutō took a step into the chamber as he contemplated taking one of the two tunnels or simply waiting her for The Old One to return.

The Old One made the choice for him.

A double-fisted blow landed between his shoulder blades and slammed Kokutō to the unforgiving stone ground with enough force to knock every last ounce of air from his lungs. He went to push himself to his feet, sucking in air to _try_ and explain the reason for his visit, but The Old One yanked him off the ground by the back of his neck and tossed him across the chamber like a rag doll. Kokutō hit the far wall directly between the two doorways, his head bouncing off the stone.

His white hair felt wet now and Kokutō knew it to be blood from the impact of his skull against the wall. His vision was hazy now as blood began to seep into his eyes, but he could make out a tall, muscular man with dark, scraggly hair stomping towards him.

"Wait!" Kokutō called out as he struggled to stay on his feet. "I'm not here to fight! I just want to talk!"

"I've heard that one before," growled the man. 'You just want to be friends, right? You want to stay up here with me where it's safe, don't you? Not interested."

"No!" corrected Kokutō, ducking under a powerful right that would have crushed his head. As it was, the fist shattered the stone wall where it impacted, the very location Kokutō's head had been a moment earlier. "I'm here to make a deal!"

"Not interested," the man said again. "I don't care to be part of whatever hare-brained scheme you might have to rule Hell. I don't need anything you might have to offer."

"What about freedom?" asked Kokutō, backpedaling away from the stronger soul. "You can't tell me you don't want out of here as much as anyone else."

"Escape?" laughed The Old One humorlessly. "Impossible. I've been here long enough to see tens of thousands of failed escape attempts. I'm not going to waste my time."

"There's never been an attempt like this," Kokutō pressed. "It _will_ succeed."

"Only with my help, is that it?" sneered the man as he reached for Kokutō again. "Heard that one before, too."

"It's going to succeed with or without you," the younger soul answered, jumping back from the other man's hand. "Our chances are much better with your help, but we don't _need_ you."

"Then why are you here? If you don't need me, why bother me?"

"Like I said, it will be easier with your help," said Kokutō. "In just a few days, I'm leaving this pit with a small army and I'm here to invite you to join us."

"A small army?" questioned The Old One, finally halting his pursuit. "You can't escape with a small army, no matter how strong you think you are; the Kushanāda will crush you."

"The guardians will be too busy crushing the ill-fated rebellion of some hundred million souls to stop us from opening the gates." Kokutō answered with a malicious grin.

_ That_ got The Old One to pause, surprise etched on his face.

"The rebellion that everyone has been whispering about… You're setting that up as a distraction?" he asked Kokutō.

"It goes beyond that," Kokutō promised. "I'm going to take those who follow me to someplace far outside of the reach of the Kushanāda. We're going to be free at long last, and I want you to join us."

"You're insane…" said the other man finally. "What you're suggesting is impossible; it can't be done. Kushanāda can be killed, but it doesn't matter; they're reborn from the fiery pits immediately. They'll crush the rebellion quickly, long before your chosen few can force the gates open."

"Except that you're _wrong_," Kokutō replied confidently. "We know that on one night of the year, the barrier between dimensions weakens. On that one night, the gates will be far easier to open than normal. Easy enough that a small force of strong warriors can push them open and escape."

"All Hollow's Eve… Yes, I know all about it. It changes nothing; you'll return to the world of the living for a few short moments before the Kushanāda realize what you've done and then they _will_ find you. You forget there is nowhere in the human world where they can't reach you."

"What if I said we weren't staying in the human world?" the togabito asked. "What if I said I had _bigger_ plans?"

"You truly are mad…" The Old One reasoned. "You seek the impossible. You will die. All who follow you will die. The countless millions who will be part of the rebellion will be shredded into oblivion."

"You're wrong, and you're throwing away your one and only chance to escape Hell," Kokutō reminded him as he inched towards the exit. "I told you, there's never been a plan like this before; it _will_ succeed."

"And I already told you, you're insane," growled the hermit.

"You're the first murderer, the original sinner; you will _never_ be pardoned. If you don't join me, you'll never have another chance," Kokutō called out as he headed into the blackened corridor leading to the surface.

"I don't need _you_ to remind me of that," spat the man bitterly. Kokuto's disembodied voice came echoing down the passageway one final time before vanishing entirely.

"Just think about my offer, Cain."


	3. Meetings

**Meetings**

There were some days where Ashido Kanō regretted his decision to accept the position of lieutenant of Squad 5. There were other days where he was convinced it was quite possibly the best decision he'd ever made.

Today was something in-between those two feelings.

He was giving a small group of his subordinates a lesson on how to properly combat hollows while unarmed and while he usually didn't mind such tasks, the promise of a party within the next few days and the absence of Captain Abarai had made the lecture a never-ending fest of party-related question after party-related question.

Ashido Kanō decided that he didn't like parties.

"So you've lost your zanpaktou and kidō isn't an option for one reason or another," he began again, "what do you do?"

He looked out at the sea of faces and saw a few hands raised in the air. He quietly pointed to a junior soul reaper in the very back.

"Can we invite our friends from other divisions to the party?" asked the kid, prompting an annoyed twitch from Ashido.

"The next person to ask me about the party will be _forbidden_ to attend," he announced testily. "If necessary, I will lock you in the division barracks myself until daybreak. The point of this gathering is _education_, people, not mindless speculating about a meaningless party; is that clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Sirs" rang through the crowd, but Ashido doubted he'd make it through the rest of the day without being asked at least another dozen questions about the party. He forced out a sigh to calm his nerves before he resumed the lesson.

"Back to the situation at hand; you've lost your zanpaktou and cannot use your kidō. What do you do?"

"Run for help?" suggested someone in the front row.

"Only if the hollow is vastly stronger than you," Ashido responded. "If he is at or near your level, running is _not_ an option. Remember that as a soul reaper, our job is to slay hollows to protect pure souls."

"How can we fight a hollow without our zanpaktou or kidō?" asked a shinigami with a shaved head.

"You have fists and you have feet," answered Ashido. "Even if you can't kill the hollow, you can force it to retreat and it won't hurt anyone else until it recovers."

"Fighting a hollow bare-handed is crazy!" shouted someone else.

"I've done it," countered Ashido, "and so have many others The key is knowing their weak points."

He reached over to the table sitting beside him and started searching through the box sitting on top of it before pulling out a hollow mask. He placed it on a stand facing the crowd so they could all see it clearly.

"I asked the stealth force retrieve a few masks for us," he explained. "The mask is the hollow's biggest weak point; if you can damage or destroy their mask, you have effectively won the battle. A damaged mask makes the typical hollow weaker and a destroyed mask makes him _extremely_ vulnerable."

"But how can we damage a hollow's mask without breaking our hands? Those things are tough!" came a voice from the middle of the crowd.

"By knowing where and where _not_ to hit it," answered Ashido, motioning for someone in the front to stand up and join him. "Lieutenant Enjeru Masamune, I understand you have experience with this…"

Ashido didn't know Enjeru or any other of his fellow lieutenants very well since he'd never socialized with them outside of what was required at the meetings, but he was aware of the fact that Enjeru's captain had _ordered_ the man to participate in this lesson for some reason or another. Ashido concluded that the other man had likely learned these lessons in the field and while his input would be very helpful to the presentation, Ashido took no joy in the prospect of making him relive his failures to the crowd.

"A lot of experience," answered the sandy-blonde soul reaper honestly, "and not all of it good. Early on in my career, I learned the hard way about where _not_ to strike a hollow."

"Enlighten us, if you would."

"Your first instinct will be to aim for the nose, or the region that generally passes for a nose," Enjeru began. "It's a viable target when fighting people and it's easy to assume it will work against a hollow as well. Unfortunately, that assumption is wrong."

"The nose area of any given hollow mask is actually very dense," said Ashido. "It's one of the toughest parts of the mask and is generally stronger than the bones in your hand. Only the forehead is denser and tougher to crack."

"I didn't know that when I first found myself facing a hollow unarmed…" Enjeru said, obviously embarrassed. "I put all my strength into a punch aimed right for his nose and I shattered nearly every bone in my hand."

"That was many years ago, though, was it not?" questioned Ashido. "If given the chance to do it over again, where would you aim now?"

"Right here," answered Enjeru, indicating the small area between the two eyeholes on the mask, just above the nose. "I've since found out that this area is pretty thin."

"Good choice," Ashido agreed. "This tiny, insignificant-looking stretch is actually the single weakest point on the mask; it's relatively easy to break and will cause the hollow extreme pain. It won't actually kill him, but it will force him to back away from you."

"What about if they don't _have_ a space between their eyes?" asked someone near the back. "Like some of the ones that only have a single slit or hole for an eye?"

"Like this?" asked Ashido, fishing out a cyclops-like mask from the box and putting it on a stand.

"Yeah! What are we supposed to do about that?"

"I generally go for the left and right sides of the eye socket," answered Ashido. "The density in this area is very low, similar to a human skull. Reach up and feel the temples of your head; feel how weak it feels compared to your forehead or your jaw? Fracture a hollow mask in this area and you'll do even more damage than hitting it between the eyes."

"Or you can target the hinge of their jaw," Enjeru pointed out. "That's my preference; the hinge is made to go up and down, open and close; it's weak against being hit in the side and can shatter easily. Once the hinge of the jaw is destroyed, the hollow can no longer bite you."

"The downside to this is that it generally won't do enough damage to force the hollow to retreat; you've removed his jaws from the equation, but he's still very capable of fighting. The upside, though, is that the hinge of the jaw is a fairly large target and is much easier to hit than the other areas."

"But after his jaw is disabled, I like to shove my fist through his teeth, grab the mandible, and yank his jaw off completely," explained Enjeru.

Ashido favored the other lieutenant with a smile.

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

* * *

Kokutō was running late for the meeting with his followers but he couldn't force himself to care; if they wanted any hope of ever escaping this god-awful torment, they would sit there and obediently wait for him indefinitely if they had to. For himself, Kokutō had to be seen as strong and it wouldn't do for him to stroll into the meeting bloodied from his little encounter with The Old One.

Contrary to what one would expect, there was actually water in Hell, and though it varied in acidity depending on where it came from, none of it was fit to drink. It was another of the pit's never-ending torments; water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

The weakest of the acidic pools served surprisingly-well for bathing, though. It was a luxury that only the strong could make use of and Kokutō had long ago claimed one of the smaller pools for his exclusive use. If he wanted to be seen as a leader, he had to look the part, after all.

The heat from the constantly-burning fires and rivers of magma that lazily flowed about the pit helped him dry as he slowly walked to the meeting. He wasn't overly concerned about being completely dry when he arrived as his appearance wasn't _that_ important, though he did derive a certain pleasure in forcing the others to wait on him. It was a reminder that _he_ was in charge of this operation; everything operated on his schedule and his schedule alone.

The mouth of the meeting cave was in sight now and while the water had finally been dried by the excessive heat, he could now feel sweat soaking into the black bandages that covered the scarred right half of his face. It was a nuisance, but one he'd had to learn to deal with for ages now.

It was a nuisance that would be no more soon enough.

The guards he'd posted at the mouth of the cave gave him a respectful nod as he entered; they knew better than to display any other form of greeting, such as a salute; if someone not in on the _true_ plan saw them, someone loyal to Baraggan, such an act could cause unnecessary drama within the king's court. The would-be God King had made it clear early on that he was the only one people could salute or bow to and there was little doubt he'd feel ridiculously-threatened if people dared show the slightest bit of respect to anyone else.

Fool.

Unlike The Old One's cave, the passageway here was lined with torches, one on each side of the shaft spaced out every meter and a half, giving the natural hallway a soft light as it lead Kokutō deeper into the earth. He followed the winding corridor for dozens of meters until at last he was close enough to the main chamber, the meeting hall, that he could hear the voices of the others.

"He's late again…" one voice could be heard grumbling, "always making us wait like dogs…"

"Such is the right of those in charge, Nobunaga," countered another. "You should know this as well as I."

"I agree with Nobunaga," chimed a cultured feminine voice. "It's dreadfully hot in this cave and the waiting is making my skin dry out. I'm going to need to take another bath after this…"

"Your vanity knows no bounds, does it, Countess?" asked the second voice. "A little patience won't kill you."

"Careful of your tongue, Cao, or I'll use _you_ to fill my next bath."

"Shut your complaining before I kill the lot of you," growled another with an Irish accent. "I'm so fucking tired of listening to you three bitch every time we get together that it's driving me mad."

"It's not like it's a long drive for you," said another.

"Watch it, Linn, or I'll end you as well," promised the gruff-voiced Irishman as Kokutō finally entered the chamber.

"Comrades, why must you fight among yourselves?" asked Kokutō as he walked towards the center of the massive room, every voice shutting up and every pair of eyes turning to focus on him. "Why must we go through this every time we get together? If this plan is to succeed, we need to work _together_, people; your petty bickering can wait until after we're free."

"Free! Free!" cackled someone madly in the back. "Yes, we will be free! Yes, we will, yes, we will!"

"See?" asked Kokutō with a wry grin. "Rondare gets it. You should all strive to be more like him."

"Except that he's batshit fuckin' crazy," said Nnoitra Gila from his spot leaning up against the far wall, his massive weapon beside him. "If we were like him, we'd all be fucked; this little plan would go nowhere."

"As it is, I'm worried he'll disrupt our efforts and make us all fail," said the woman from earlier as she preened her red hair lovingly. "Do we really need that…_thing_ with us?"

"Come now, Nnoitra, Erzsébet; there's no need to be like that," Kokutō chided them. "Rondare may be a little different, but his dedication is unquestionable and his strength will be an asset to us in the days to come."

"How did your little 'recruiting' mission go?" asked Nnoitra with a sneer. "I don't see anyone new with you."

"Regretfully, our prospective new member does not appear to be interested in joining us…" the scarred togabito admitted. "It's of no consequence; the strength we have gathered here in this room is more than enough to ensure our success."

"Are you sure of that?" asked one of the men from earlier.

"Positive, Cao; I have been planning this for years now, meticulously learning everything I can about the Seireitei and the shinigami and gathering the strongest souls in all of Hell."

"Except Baraggan…" said Linndal from his seat in the corner. "We're usin' him as a decoy, but his strength would be better suited for the _real_ plan."

"Except that you know as well as I that Baraggan would never serve," countered Kokutō bitterly, scowling. "Believe me, I thought long and hard about inviting him to join us, but when he swore that he'd never allow himself to be a follower ever again, that sealed his fate."

"And what exactly _is_ the full plan?" asked Cao Cao, stroking his small, immaturely-groomed beard thoughtfully. "We're getting closer and closer to All Hollow's Eve and you still haven't told us all the details."

"My dear warlord, that's why we are gathered here today," said Kokutō, smiling broadly as he held out his arms theatrically and addressed the two hundred-plus souls gathered before him. "The entire reason for this gathering is to finally reveal the details to you, my trusted army; we all need to be on the same page for this to work and the time has come to share my grand vision in it's entirety."

A murmur rippled through the crowd and Kokutō heard more than a few saying "Finally" and "It's about damn time!"

He made a mental note to kill them first after their objectives were achieved.

"You all know that All Hollow's Eve has been chosen as the day of the rebellion and our escape, but few of you know why," Kokutō began. "It is because All Hollow's Eve is the only day of the year where this plan has a chance of succeeding. This is why we cannot wait for anyone or anything and why we can't reschedule for any reason; the rebellion _must_ happen on that day or all is lost."

"Why is All Hollow's Eve so important?" asked the Countess. "Why makes that one day so special?"

"Because on All Hollow's Eve, the natural boundaries between the realms are at their weakest," Kokutō answered with a grin. "On that day, hollows frequently traverse back and forth from the human world and Hueco Mundo with no real effort. On that day, the passageways between the Soul Society and the human world are shorter than normal. On that day, the gates of Hell will be ten thousand times easier to open than any other day."

"Enough so that we could push them open?"

"Enough so that we can _escape_," Kokutō corrected. "With our collective strength, we'll be able to force the gates open just wide enough to leave this miserable place."

"And _then_ what?" came the irritated voice of Nobunaga. "We'll pass through the gates and be stuck in the human world for all of ten minutes _if we're lucky_ before the Kushanāda come after us and drag us back to Hell."

"Oh ye of so little faith…" said Kokutō, shaking his head. "Did you miss the part about it being easy to go from the world of the living to Hueco Mundo? Did you not notice how many fallen arrancar we have among our ranks? Hueco Mundo is far beyond the reach of the guardians; we'll be safe there."

"Aye, that's what I've been waitin' to hear," said Linn with a smile. "It may be dreary and miserable, but it's home. More importantly, it ain't _here_."

"Ah, but Linn, my friend, we're not _staying_ there," Kokutō said, watching as the former Espada's smile disappeared. "It's only a way station, a safe place to regroup and reassess our strength before we invade the _Seireitei_. Like Hueco Mundo, the Kushanda have no dominion there and it's _real_ paradise compared to Hueco Mundo: a day and night cycle, changing seasons, blue skies, green grass, actual water… It's everything we could ever want or need."

"That shit's crazy!" scoffed a dark-skinned man in the back. "Ain't no way we can take on the entire Seireitei!"

"It is _not_ crazy," Kokutō corrected sharply. "Aizen and his forces may have lost the war with the Soul Reapers, but it took a heavy toll on them; from the information I've gathered, they lost _at least_ a third of their forces during the war, possibly as much as half."

"And we're _still_ going to be outnumbered ten to one!" called someone else.

"Quality over quantity, my friends; each one of you is far, far stronger than your average shinigami. That is the very reason I have chosen you. It is a bit of a moot point, though; on All Hollow's Eve, the shinigami routinely send out as much as _half _of their forces to the world of the living. The _real_ threat we have to worry about are the captains and lieutenants; at full strength, that's twenty-six individuals to worry about, but fortunately for us, the war took its toll there, too."

"Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tousen were all captains when they defected over to lead us," said Nnoitra, taking over momentarily. "That's three down and Baraggan says he saw another get a hand shoved through his chest over Karakura, so there's four."

"He also claims to have taken the arm of the current Squad 2 captain, which will weaken her," Kokutō added. "With as strong as Aizen was, it's likely that others died _after_ Baraggan fell, but we can't count on that. We know the Seireitei is four captains short, and as for the lieutenants…"

"Aizen said Squad 13 ain't had a lieutenant in years," said Nnoitra with a grin, "not since he kinda used him for an experiment. Old man Baraggan says he offed the fat lieutenant of Squad 2, too, so there's that."

"He's also confirmed the deaths of the lieutenants of Squads 3, 5, and 7," said Kokutō. "So of the twenty-six we would normally have to worry about, we're down to seventeen."

"There's also that stupid kid, Kurosaki…" growled Nnoitra. "Piss ant isn't very strong, though; I'd have killed him if it hadn't been for the captain with the weird hair."

"And prior to his unfortunate disappearance in the mountains, the late Szayel assured me that he left the lieutenant of Squad 6 in such shape that he would _never_ recover."

"And what if that information is no longer accurate?" asked Cao Cao. "They could have found replacements since the war."

"With the requirements needed to make lieutenant, much less _captain_, it's highly unlikely they've filled all those positions," said Kokutō. "Still, even if they have, we have the strength here to equal them."

"The problem is the old fart that leads 'em," said Nnoitra. "Even Aizen was worried about him. Made a special arrancar just to neutralize his powers, some retarded brat called Wondernut or something."

"All Hollow's Eve is the gift that keeps on giving," said Kokutō with a grin. "I have found out that every year, old man Yamamoto _personally_ takes a squad of young shinigami out to the world of the living for on-the-job training. He'll be gone all night."

"And then when he returns, he'll slaughter us all…" Erzsébet said.

"That is a possibility," Kokutō admitted. "This plan is very time-sensitive; the rebellion must begin immediately on All Hollow's Eve and we must have control of the Seireitei before dawn on the first of November; if we control the Seireitei, we can slaughter Yamamoto and all the other lesser shinigami as they're coming back through the gates."

"What's to stop the shinigami from calling for help _before_ dawn?" asked Nobunaga. "They could recall Yamamoto before morning."

"Because we know the layout of the Seireitei and where their communications center is… Aizen was smart enough to show his army a detailed map of the Seireitei and fortunately for us, someone here actually remembers it well enough to give us _this_…" said Kokutō as he pulled out a large map made of leathery hide that had been stitched together. He carefully unfurled the massive drawing and hung it on the wall before stepping back and allowing the crowd to see it.

"It's not complete, of course," Kokutō admitted. "It lacks all the fine details Aizen's map had, but it's enough for our purposes. Thank you, Tesla, for this."

"You are most welcome," said Telsa Lindocruz from his spot at his master Nnoitra's side, bowing deeply. "I'm pleased I could be of some assistance."

"Stop sucking up," growled Nnoitra bitterly as he grabbed the servant's head and smacked it against the stone wall roughly. "Don't forget who you serve, fool."

"Of course not, Master Nnoitra," Tesla apologized, holding his bloody scalp. "I apologize for my insolence."

Kokutō watched the exchange silently, making a mental note that Nnoitra would have to die as soon as he'd outlived his usefulness; he was no longer Tesla's master, but still he deluded himself into thinking himself so. That was unacceptable; Kokutō was the master now and all who refused to accept it would have to die once the Seireitei was his.

He took a moment to glance about the room at the other faces gathered, trying to judge who would be worth keeping after it was all said and done and who else would need to be eliminated. The Englishman standing in the darkest corner of the room absentmindedly playing with a stiletto wouldn't be a problem, but Kokutō knew that the Nazi standing just a few feet away from him was an entirely different matter given the look of disdain on the Quincy's face at being forced to work with such a motley crew. Like Nnoitra, he would need to be dealt with shortly after the completion of the invasion but for now, he was still useful.

"At any rate," Kokutō began again, "this is an overview of the Seireitei. The city itself is very large, designed to house a much greater force than it actually does. Perhaps they meant to expand one day, but as it stands now, half the Seireitei is actually uninhabited. This side over here? Completely empty and can be safely ignored."

"And the communication center you mentioned?" questioned Nobunaga.

"Right here…" the togabito answered, pointing to a small building in the area designated as belonging to Division 12. "This building handles all transmissions to and from the Seireitei; once it's destroyed, there will be no calls for help. This is our first target once we arrive; if this building doesn't die immediately, the plan will fail."

"And then we only have a few hours to kill the remaining captains and lieutenants before dawn and the return of Yamamoto…" mused Cao Cao. "We're going to be pressed for time."

"Nothing I can't handle…" grunted the Irishman from earlier. "I'll kill them all myself."

"I admire your confidence and enthusiasm, Wolf," responded Cao diplomatically, "but not even _you_ are strong enough to challenge the entire Gotei 13 alone."

"Just watch me, Chinaman; I'll kill them all as a warm up and then I'll greet this Yamamoto bastard myself when he comes back. Kill you, too, if you doubt me."

"You've lost your sanity if you think you can do this solo."

"Sanity? What would I do with something as stupid as _that_? Good thing I never had any to begin with."

"I'll retract my earlier statement, then; your _arrogance_ and _madness_ disgusts me."

"Gentlemen!" Kokutō interrupted them sharply. "Save it for the invasion; Cao is right when he says there won't be much time, and that is why it is essential that we _stop bickering_ and save all of our strength for the battle ahead."

"You're quite right, sorry…" admitted Cao with a slight bow of the head. "Forgive the interruption."

"Done," said Kokutō dismissively. "I get that we're all edgy; we've been waiting a long time for this and now that our escape is so close, it's easy to get excited, but we have to control ourselves, _all_ of us, Wolf-"

The burly Irishman gave a curt grunt and looked away.

"-because there is still plenty of time for things to fall apart. One wrong move, one wrong word, and everything we've worked for could be destroyed. All of you have to swallow your pride and work together and _pretend_ to be loyal subjects of King Baraggan for just a few more days. Once we have control of the Seireitei, you can tear out each other's throats if you really want, but until then, you have to behave."

"Please…" scoffed the Countess. "The only ones you really need to worry about are Onsende and the savage here."

"I will behave, yes, yes!" blurted out Rondare Onsende excitedly. "Yes, I will, yes, I will!"

"And what of you, Wolf?" asked the haughty woman, addressing the savage berserker.

"Fuck off, bitch."

"Wolf…" said Kokutō warningly. "Do try and remember that you are replaceable in this operation."

"Yeah, I got it…" he sneered. "I'll play nice for now, but the bitch and the Chinaman die when we have the Seireitei."

"As if I'd ever lose to a mongrel like you…" said Erzsébet, shaking her head.

"That's enough!' Kokutō interrupted them again. "I don't want to hear another word from any of you; all you have to do is behave for a few more days and then you can do whatever you damn well feel like. Wolf, you can butcher everyone in the Rukon if it'll make you happy!"

_ That_ brought a sick grin to the berserker's face as Kokutō continued.

"Three more days, people, and then we'll _all _be free."


	4. Halloween Pre-Party

**Halloween Pre-Party**

It was commonly accepted that Halloween, or All Hollow's Eve as it was known to the dead, began on October 31. For humans, it was typical that their celebrations would begin in the afternoon and last until sometime after midnight. For soul reapers, All Hollow's Eve began at 11:59 PM on October 30 and lasted until 7 AM on November 1. For thirty-one hours, the natural barriers between the world of the living and the various realms of the dead would be drastically weakened and allow for easy passage between the lands. This fact was drilled into the minds of young shinigami during their tenure at the academy and it was well-known that the majority of them would be deployed to the world of the living for that period.

All of that meant that if the soul reapers were to allow themselves a party to celebrate the holiday in a human fashion, it would have to be sometime before deployments began late in the evening on October 30. That meant the closest date they could use and still have time to recover from the festivities would be the evening of October 29.

Tonight, in other words.

Head-Captain Yamamoto had given permission to the captains of the Gotei 13 to host small parties for their respective divisions if they so desired. Most were taking advantage of the situation, of course, and allowing their subordinates to have a little fun and frivolity before the grim task of hunting hollows reared its ugly head in a scant twenty-four hours.

Over in Squad 13, party preparations were in full swing; the barracks and offices had been cheerfully decorated with abnormally-cute images of bats, cats, witches, spiders, and all manner of things that went "bump" in the night, wood was being piled up for an outdoor bonfire later in the evening, and the mess hall was in the process of being turned into a spooky chamber where the soul reapers would all be congregating later.

Captain Ushii thought the fog machines were overkill, but he had allowed Neliel to take charge of the operation and the lieutenant was going all out.

Then again, the fog machines were probably the _least_ gaudy of the decorations.

He watched Kiyone string artificial spider webs about the room, complete with little plastic spiders scattered here and there, as Sentaro replaced the bright lights of the room with less-welcoming red bulbs that would paint the room a bloody hue once lit. Other squad members were decorating tables with fake bones and small splashes of "blood" that would give the illusion of a grisly murder.

There would be carved jack-o'-lanterns on several of the tables as well, though none were in the mess hall at present; Neliel had taken a pushcart from the kitchen to the office where she intended to carve all six remaining pumpkins by herself. She had originally asked Kiyone and Sentaro to help her, but after seeing their offerings, Anrak had helpfully suggested that the lieutenant personally handle things.

To be fair, they _did_ carve the scariest thing they could think of: each other.

It wasn't quite what Anrak had expected or what the lieutenant had wanted, but rather than discard them, the two pumpkins bearing the faces of the dual third-seats were sitting outside on either side of the doorway where their candle-lit faces would greet guests throughout the night.

A pair of long legs could be seen sticking out from underneath one of the tables that would be laden with snacks later in the night, legs belonging to one Ichigo Kurosaki who, rather than helping out in Squad 9 like he _should_ have been, had been hijacked by Rukia Kuchiki in order to set up a sound system of small speakers hidden about the room. The idea was that the tiny speakers would randomly emit a creepy wail or groan or hiss throughout the evening, but so far all they were doing was spitting forth static and prompting Rukia to demand that her boyfriend "stop screwing around and get it done _or else_."

The truth of All Hollow's Eve was horrifying enough _without_ the added effects and he had thought that the point of the party was to cheer people up, but no; apparently the _human_ tradition was to make the parties as creepy as possible in the name of "good-natured fun" and Neliel wanted the party to be as authentic as possible.

_ Personally, I think it's all rather charming… Very homey if you ask me._

"All the more reason for me _not_ to like it," said Anrak. "It's too dark and dreary."

_ The only thing I'd really change is some dark blue or purple lights instead of red… And while we're at it, I think that green-haired wench would look positively _marvelous_ dangling from a noose in the center of the room._

"Not this again, please…"

_ Or, instead of the bonfire that'll be going outside, we dress her like a witch and burn her at the stake! It doesn't get more authentic than that!_

"Three years and you still haven't learned to get along with her…" sighed Anrak. "What am I going to do with you?"

_ I can think of a few things…_ came Kagi's wicked reply, complete with what sounded like her licking her lips.

"Oh, good, just what I needed; nightmares for later tonight. Thanks, really," said the captain sarcastically.

"It's not _that_ bad…" said a voice behind him, "Really kind of tame compared to some of the things I've seen during my years as a lost agent."

"Tame probably doesn't even begin to scratch the surface, given your record…" muttered Anrak, as the taller man stepped up beside him, giving a brief nod as a way of greeting. "Anyway, this isn't quite what I was talking about… Kagi's being mouthy. Again."

"Dare I ask what she's been saying?" questioned Tatter de Malion with a smirk.

"You may, but I don't care to repeat it," said Anrak flatly. "All I'll say is that if she keeps this up, I'll take her to Kurotsuchi for an attitude adjustment."

_ Lies_, Kagi said, calling his bluff. _You'd sooner gut that clown than look at him. And then set him on fire. Actually, yes, let's do that; I think it'll be a good bonding experience for us._

"Ouch. Didn't think it was that bad for you," said the lieutenant, his grimace contorting his scarred face. "My sympathies, Captain."

"We all have our…_crosses_ to bear, don't we?" asked the captain.

"That was a bit below the belt," Tatter said with a frown. "I have reasons for doing what I do."

"Reasons I'll never be able to understand or condone, but I'm not your commanding officer and it's not my place to lecture you anymore than I already have."

"If that's a semi-subtle way of telling me I'm not welcome…" Tatter began, the last drop of good humor in his voice drying up.

"I don't _do_ subtle when it comes to telling people to stay out of my division," snorted Anrak. "Ask Captain Kurotsuchi; he hasn't seen fit to show his face around here since shortly after I took command."

"Ah, well then… I'm glad, actually; I kind of like it over here." said Tatter, relaxing his posture once again.

"Because it annoys the hell out of Captain Sui-Feng when you speak with me…" said the captain with a wry grin.

"She really does hate you, doesn't she?"

Anrak just shrugged, "I've tried to bury the hatchet for decades… She wants to bury it, too…_in my skull_."

"I'd offer to try and smooth things out for you on my end, but like you said, I kind of like seeing her get irritated," admitted Tatter with a devilish grin.

"So, that why you're skulking around here today?" asked the Captain as a sudden burst of static filled the room.

"Skulking? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" asked the indigo-haired man as he watched the diminutive Rukia kick Ichigo's legs for the sudden and almost-painfully loud burst of static.

"You're Squad 2; you skulk. Deal with it," said Anrak dryly. "Even my sister skulks… She just happens to _shed_ as she's skulking."

"Well then, no; the reason I'm _skulking_ around here today is that I wanted to see what you were doing for your party…" de Malion replied with a snort. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Nel is pulling out all the stops for this, should I? Sui-Feng told us she didn't gave a damn if we had a party or not so long as we kept it quiet and tasteful."

"Or she'll kill you all, right?" mused the younger shinigami.

"She didn't necessarily _say_ that, but yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"Well, you're welcome to come by here and celebrate with us tonight if you want, provided you try very hard not to murder anyone."

"And there's another jab below the belt…" drawled Tatter, sounding more amused than insulted. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not really big on parties… I may swing by to see everything once it's finished, but that's about it."

"Suit yourself; the offer stands if you change your mind."

"Appreciated," said Tatter as he turned to leave, "but if I stay at any party, it'll probably be ours in Squad 2 to make sure things don't get out of hand."

"I think everyone's too terrified of Sui-Feng to get rowdy…" said Anrak.

"Probably," agreed Tatter. He opened the door to leave, but not before calling out "Hey, Ichigo, try not to burn down the division over there, okay?"

"Put a sock in it!" yelled the teen. "I'm doing the best I- _OW!_"

"Stop talking and start wiring!" barked Rukia, kicking him again. "I promised the lieutenant that I'd have this done by the time she got back from the office!"

"That _you'd_ have it done? What the hell, Rukia; _I'm_ the one who- _OW! _Damn it!"

"Don't want to get kicked? _Then don't argue!"_

"I'm _so_ glad Neliel isn't like that…" sighed Anrak, shaking his head as he listened to the two bicker.

_ Are you kidding? Rukia's awesome! If anything, that stupid arrancar should take lessons from her!_

"I get enough of that kind of treatment from _you_; I don't need it from my wife, too."

_ She's making you too soft! You need someone who isn't afraid to kick you in the ass and tell you what to do!_

"What's it going to take for you to get off her back, huh?" asked an exasperated Anrak.

_ Well, if she could stop being a freak, that would help…_

"She's _not_ a freak…" growled the shinigami protectively.

_ Oh yeah? Explain the pain thing, then. Go ahead, I dare you._

"It's not a thing, okay?"

_ It most certainly _is_ a thing, baka! What kind of sick freak likes pain so much that it turns them on?_

"It's not _that_ uncommon…" said Anrak before face-palming. "I can't believe we're having this conversation…"

_ You accidentally hit her too hard during sparring and two minutes later, she ripped your clothes off and jumped you!_

"Oh, for the love of… Kagi, just leave it alone."

_ She told you to spank her, baka. Until she cried!_

"Kagi…" Anrak growled warningly as he turned away from the sight of his subordinates working and headed for the office, "just leave it alone."

_ I'm just glad you were underneath Sōkyoku Hill when it happened… Just think how embarrassing it would have been if it happened in the dojo in front of other people!_

"We're not doing this, Kagi; this conversation is over."

_ Fine, don't listen to me, as usual. Go back to the office and spank your wife hello._

"Kagi!"

_ I meant kiss, I meant kiss…_

* * *

If there was one thing that really pissed Kokutō off more than any other, it was the necessity of pretending to be a loyal servant of the self-proclaimed God-King Baraggan. It was exhausting to spend hours in his court, listening to him prattle on and on and trying to subtly keep him from altering the invasion schedule because of some stupid self-absorbed reason that could ultimately undo all of Kokutō's carefully laid plans and ambitions. It was exhausting because it took an unimaginable amount of restraint to keep from simply _killing_ the old fool just to be rid of him.

Therein lay the one problem Kokutō had with his grand plan; despite how much he personally wanted to end Baraggan, he would never get the chance. If everything went according to plan-and there was no reason to believe that it _wouldn't_-Kokutō and his followers would be long gone by the time the Kushanāda finally put an end to the doomed rebellion and shredded Baraggan's worthless soul.

If he couldn't do the deed himself, Kokutō _wished_ he could at least be present to see the old man's end and hear his last tormented scream.

Unfortunately sometimes the finer pleasures had to be sacrificed in favor of the bigger picture and such was the case with the end of a foolish God-King who was rapidly reaching the end of his usefulness. Kokutō would spend the rest of his afterlife living with the regret of not being there, but he would do so in _luxury_, and that made all the difference in the world.

He ambled away from the King's throne room and out into the pits, taking a long stroll and hoping the sulfuric air would help clear his mind and ease his stress. It was ludicrous to think the putrid air of the pits of the damned could clear one's mind or ease stress, but regrettably the options in Hell were quite limited and Kokutō was forced to make do with what he had.

It didn't take him long to realize that it wasn't working and with an annoyed scowl, he decided to go to the meeting chamber used to address his chosen few. If there was anything that would bring him some comfort and joy after as nightmarish a day as this, it would be looking over the map and dreaming of his ultimate victory.

After all, freedom was enough to make any man smile.

It took a few twists and turns along the many footpaths that snaked their way throughout the pits to find the meeting cave; it had to be more isolated than any of the others to keep suspicion to a minimum. It wasn't so well-hidden that it couldn't be found by the ignorant, unfortunately, and many a time had an uninitiated soul wandered by and sought entry.

That had been when Kokutō took to posting guards chosen from the lowest echelon of his army.

The mouth of the cave was in sight now and the two guards posted at the entrance…were gone.

Kokutō's slow walk turned into a sprint as he dashed over to the cave, furious; if they had abandoned their post for any reason, their punishment would be _legendary_.

It was only when standing at the entrance that he noticed one of the guards just inside, mostly hidden by the shadows, but the fact that he was _dead_ meant that something was terribly wrong.

There was a wet crimson stain on the stone wall where the man's skull had been utterly crushed without mercy and his headless body lay in a heap just below the ominous splotch.

Kokutō drew his sword, a jet-black weapon with a tip shaped like a massive barb, as he cautiously entered the cave, eyes peeled for his second guard. Weapons in hell were not uncommon as many prisoners often found metals buried within the earth and would forge them into objects used to murder their fellows and while these metals were very strong, stronger than anything found in the world of the living, Kokutō's sword had been forged from the very chains of Hell themselves, the unbreakable bonds used to hold some of the more troublesome souls shackled to the stone walls.

Unbreakable, but _not_ invincible; he'd broken off the very rock the chains were attached to and thrown it, the chains, and the unfortunate prisoner all into one of the molten pits in order to craft his beautiful blade as the fires were the only thing that could truly damage the metal.

The guard's long polearm, made from the lesser metals found in Hell, lay near the body, but it had been utterly _shattered_ by the intruder which indicated massive strength. Kokutō gripped the hilt of his blade tightly as he crept down the corridor, the torches flickering wildly as if they were alive and eager for more bloodshed.

Then again, given how Hell operated, they probably were.

More bloodstains could be seen on the walls now, illuminated by the soft orange glow of the torches: a long streak, a hand print, random spots scattered here and there. The second guard had apparently tried to fight off the intruder, but Kokutō could see neither soul and there were no sounds coming from deeper within the cave.

If the intruder was someone loyal to Baraggan and they found the map, then Kokutō would have a _lot_ of explaining to do and it was possible that the entire plan would come to a screeching halt.

Unacceptable; whoever the intruder was, he had to be killed before he could leave the cave and report to Baraggan.

Kokutō continued to inch forward, his muscles on a hair-trigger, prepared to attack first and ask questions later if anyone, including the missing guard, should appear before him, but the passage remained quiet and deserted. He tread lightly, not wanting the sound of his footfalls to echo through the corridor and alert whoever was in the central chamber that death was coming.

He reached the meeting chamber and paused just outside, straining his ears for any indication of who might be in there, or how many of them there were, but he heard nothing: no sounds of battle, no conversation, not even the ragged breathing of a wounded guard.

The togabito took a deep breath to ready himself for battle before springing into the chamber, his sword raised and prepared to come down and slice whoever he saw.

In a glance, he noticed his final guard slumped over in the corner surrounded by blood and a single intruder who had taken the map and hung it on the wall, his back carelessly exposed as he looked it over. With a roar of anger and hatred, Kokutō brought his black blade down and prepared to end the intruder once and for all, but the man spun around with amazing speed and simply _caught_ the blade with his right hand, his bare hand.

It was unbelievable, and so was the fact the Kokutō's own palm, his right palm, suddenly and inexplicably burst open, coating the hilt with his blood as the intruder easily yanked the deadly weapon away from him. The togabito looked at his opponent defiantly, prepared to meet his end…and only then did he finally recognize who it was.

"You…" he breathed in disbelief as the other man discarded the weapon, letting it clatter to the stone floor.

"Yeah, _me_."

* * *

The Grand Mess in the Seireitei commons had always been loud and crowded, but today it was a madhouse the likes of which Takk could not recall having seen ever before. The massive mess hall was far larger than the ones located within each division and served as a place where the different squads could mingle with each other during their meal breaks and though it had recently been expanded to comply with the mandate that all squads would be increasing in size over the coming decades, it still wasn't big enough to seat everyone at once and unfortunately, it felt like the entire Seireitei was currently crammed into the commissary.

Curiously, the table Takk found himself seated at in the very back of the room was virtually deserted save for himself, his brother, and a woman a few chairs down quietly keeping to herself. Curious, but the noisy chatter clogging the room and the incessant rambling of his younger brother, Satsu, kept him from pondering the reasons why they were alone.

"Man, I can't wait for tonight's party!" Satsu said excitedly, his mouth crammed full of rice as he spoke, spewing bits of food out with each word. He finally swallowed and took a quick drink of water before adding, "This is going to be _awesome_, Takk, just wait and see. I love parties!"

"Yeah, I know you do," said Takk slowly, scowling at the thought. "I used to like 'em, too, once upon a time."

"Why do you get like that every time someone mentions a party? What happened to make you so damn bitter?"

"Consider yourself lucky you don't remember…" Takk replied, poking at the mostly-untouched meal on his own tray. "Anyway, I don't get why you're so worked up; it's not like you're going to have any luck with the ladies tonight, as usual."

"It's that negative thinking that's holding us back, bro; I'm telling you, you need to have more confidence-"

"I _do_ have confidence, confidence that you're going to get slapped. Again."

"If you were a better wingman-"

"Oh no, don't you go laying your failures on _me_," Takk growled at his twin. "_You're_ the reason you can't land a woman."

"That's insane; everyone knows I'm a smooth operator," scoffed Satsu. "Everyone knows that _I'm_ the cool twin."

"Prove it," challenged Takk as his brother took another drink. "Really. Use your skills to talk to a woman for five minutes without it going south and I'll admit you're right."

"Challenge accepted!" declared Satsu, slamming the cup of water down on the table hard and looking around for a target. His eyes settled on the silver-haired young woman sitting a few chairs away from them and he grinned. "Watch and learn, Takk."

Satsu slid over to be closer to her, a broad grin on his face as he quickly combed his hair back with his hands. He cleared his throat to get her attention, but she didn't even look up from her tray. Undeterred, he leapt directly into introductions, "Hey there, cutie; my name is-"

"Your name is 'dead meat' if you call me _cutie_ again," she growled, not looking up.

But Satsu was not about to be deterred; he would _not_ fail in front of his brother again!

"You're a feisty one, aren't you? That's cool-"

"If by 'feisty' you mean I'm five seconds away from gutting you, then yes, I'm _extremely_ feisty."

"Whoa, relax! I'm just trying to introduce myself, maybe be friends… My name is Satsu-"

"And what makes you think I need or want friends, Satsu?" she asked, finally looking up from her tray and staring at him with cold blue eyes. "I _heard_ your conversation with your brother, dumbass; I know what your game is."

"Oh, well, that was uh…it was-"

"If it'll get you off my back, my name is Haname Shiba," she said finally before turning back to her food. At that, Satsu's eyes went wide and he quickly slid back to his original seat.

"Well, that explains why everyone else is avoiding this table…" muttered Takk, watching his brother eye Haname warily. "You're somewhat infamous; they say you're the most vicious person in Squad 11 except for Captain Zaraki himself."

The woman looked over at Takk and favored him with a wicked grin, "Actually, I'd say I'm the most vicious person in the entire _Seireitei_ except for Captain Zaraki."

"Based off some of the things _I've_ heard, I wouldn't argue with that," said Satsu, quaking in his seat. "Please don't kill me!"

"I try and spare the hopelessly stupid; they usually kill themselves, anyway," said Haname, turning her frightening grin on Satsu.

"I heard you used to be in Squad 2 until Zaraki found out about you, then he snatched you away from Sui-Feng and made you his sixth-seat," said Takk conversationally, showing no hint of fear.

"Yeah, no; that's not how it happened at all," said Shiba, shoveling a helping of rice into her mouth and swallowing before continuing. "Sui-Feng and I had a few…_disagreements_ on methodology-among _other_ things-and she decided to get rid of me. She tried to push me off on Squad 13, but they didn't want me for some strange reason; I can't imagine why."

Given the grin on her face and the poor attempt at sounding innocent, Takk knew immediately that she was lying, that she knew _exactly_ why Squad 13 had refused to take her, but he decided against calling her out.

"Since Squad 13 didn't want me, Sui-Feng thought her next best bet would be Squad 11. She took my file over to Zaraki, had a little talk with him, and the next thing I know, she's telling me to get the hell out of the Squad 2 barracks and never come back. I take my stuff, give her my…_best wishes_, and trot over to Squad 11 where Captain Zaraki greets me and says I'm his new sixth-seat."

"Hell of a promotion, going from unranked officer to sixth-seat in one move," said Takk.

"I'd have been an officer in Squad 2 if Sui-Feng didn't hate me," snorted Haname. "She had it out for me since day one and I was never anything but nice to her…"

Another blatant lie, but again Takk thought it wise not to say anything.

"So… What kind of party is Squad 11 having tonight?" asked Satsu nervously, having finally managed to stop shaking in intimidation.

"Why are you talking to me again?" growled Haname, glaring daggers at him.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, trembling. "I'll just shut up now and just sit here quietly..."

"Good boy," said Haname condescendingly. "Anyway, we're not having a party; we'll be doing the same thing we do every night."

"Drinking and fighting among yourselves?" asked Takk wryly and Haname favored him with a grin that was nothing short of frightening.

"Oh yeah," she said, her voice dripping with sadistic glee as she took her now-empty tray and stood to leave. "It's _awesome_. You should come by and join us."

"Thanks, but I don't drink much anymore," said Takk.

"Oh, I think you and I can have plenty of…_fun_ without drinking," said Haname, the chilling grin on her face leaving Takk wondering if she wanted to kill him or screw him.

_ Maybe both_, he though to himself.

"Your loss," Haname said with a shrug as she left the table. She walked around the long way and paused next to the still-quivering Satsu, leaned down, and whispered into his ear, "Try growing a spine next time you want to talk to a real woman."

She stood up straight again and gave Takk another dark little grin before walking away and heading for the exit.

Takk noted that virtually everyone milling about between their table and the door hastily parted and allowed her to pass while the few who were too clueless to get out of the way were quickly yanked to safety by their peers.

Satsu watched her leave and after she disappeared through the door, he turned back to face his older brother in shock.

"Did she just ask you out?" he asked, mouth agape. "I think she just asked you out. Holy shit, she _wants_ you!"

"Let's not talk about it…" said Takk, poking at his food once again.

"But…_why?_"

"Because she scares the _hell_ out of me."

* * *

Kokutō wasn't sure which was the bigger surprise; the fact that The Old One, Cain, had come down from his mountain and was casually inspecting the map of the Seireitei or that fact that his hand had been the one hurt after his attack against the older soul. His right palm continued to bleed as Cain essentially ignored him in favor of looking the map over and cautiously, Kokutō edged forward and retrieved his sword from the ground with his other hand.

"You're lucky I stopped you from trying to cut me in half," Cain said finally. "I usually don't bother."

Kokutō wanted to ask _why_ he wouldn't bother stopping someone intent on killing him, but the instant he opened his mouth, he realized the truth.

"That's how you've survived so long down here, isn't it?" he asked. "That's your power; any damage meant for you is instead reflected back at your attacker."

"You'd have been split in two by your own attack," Cain confirmed. "I think more people have killed themselves trying to end me than I've killed myself."

"A useful ability," Kokutō said, taking his black sword and heating the blade over a torch on the far wall for a few seconds. With the blade sufficiently hot, he grabbed it with his bleeding right hand, hissing in pain as he cauterized the wound.

"So your plan isn't just to escape, but to invade the Seireitei? Ambitious," commented The Old One, sounding almost impressed. "More ambitious than any other plan I've heard."

"There's more to it than-"

"I know," Cain interrupted him. "Your guards didn't want to talk or to let me pass. The first one died doing his duty and while the second _tried_ to hold out, he eventually spilled everything."

"And then you killed him after he'd outlived his usefulness…" Kokutō surmised. "Just as well; I'd have killed him myself for talking."

Cain stepped away from the map and walked around the room slowly, taking in the massive size of the chamber, the many stone seats, and the countless footprints in the thin layer of dirt and dust on the floor. After a few moments of silence, he looked over at Kokutō.

"It's not enough," he said finally. "The numbers you have… You underestimate the strength of the Gotei 13. I've been here far longer than you; I've heard the stories of just how strong the captains truly are."

"They're short by at least four captains and five lieutenants; what we have is more than enough to do the job," Kokutō shot back bitterly.

"Even with Yamamoto out of the way for the night, your little group isn't strong enough alone. You need more. You _need_ me, Kokutō," said Cain evenly. "This plan has no chance of success without me."

Kokutō's anger at having his plan criticized evaporated as a grin spread itself across his face slowly. "So _that's_ your game," he said, "you changed your mind after all."

"Not quite…" said Cain. "I still think the plan is doomed to fail, but you were right about one thing, Kokutō; I will never be released. I will never be forgiven. I could spend the next ten thousand years being a perfect, obedient soul, a model prisoner, but it still wouldn't be enough."

Cain paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air.

"I'm _tired_ of it," he said finally, his voice sounding weary. "All of it. I want it to end, one way or another. If this plan succeeds by some miracle, I will be free. If it fails-_when_ it fails -then perhaps the Kushanāda will finally shred me and I'll _still_ be free."

"I understand how you feel…" Kokutō said soothingly. "I haven't been stuck here near as long as you have, but I understand the feeling; this is an all or nothing gambit for _all_ of us. One way or another, our imprisonment will come to an end."

"Except that _you_ don't plan on dying," Cain grunted. "You honestly believe you can pull this off."

"We _will_ succeed," Kokutō assured him with a devilish smile. "And if you're with us, then _nothing_ will be able to stop us."

"I don't share your conviction, but _if_ we succeed, Division 1 will be mine," Cain said firmly. "I don't care about the rest of the Seireitei or the Rukon, But Division 1 belongs to me."

"It's a bit early to be dividing up the spoils of war-"

"This _isn't_ a negotiation, Kokutō; Division 1 _will_ be mine or else," growled The Old One. "I was the original sinner, the first prisoner of Hell. Murder began with me. It's only fitting that I take the first division as my home."

Cain's voice was hard as he stated the truth about his existence and even the declaration that he would control Division 1 no matter what sounded as if it were an immutable fact carved into stone. To argue with him would be to die and with as powerful as Kokutō was, he could see no way to get around Cain's power to reflect damage.

To challenge Cain was to die, pure and simple.

"You're right, of course," Kokutō said with a forced smile. "I did not think of it that way, but you're right; it would be positively unthinkable for anyone else to call Division 1 their home. I'm sure the others will agree-"

"I don't give a damn _what _the others think," Cain snarled. "I don't give a damn what _you_ think. I take what I want, pure and simple. If they don't agree, then I'll simply kill them."

"No need for such hostility," Kokutō said calmly. "You're our comrade now; we're all on the same side. The others will be happy to let you take what's rightfully yours, I promise you."

"Right…" said the scraggly-haired man, his voice suggesting he didn't believe Kokutō in the slightest.

"There is just one tiny bit of unpleasantness that you'll need to agree to…"

"You want me to stay down here and _pretend_ to be loyal to that fat buffoon who calls himself King, don't you?" Cain said, his lip curling in disgust.

"It's only so you'll be ready to go once the rebellion starts; if you're up on your mountain, you may not reach the gates in time," Kokutō explained. "If you want to return to your cave and wait there, that is your choice, of course, but you know as well as I that we won't have much time to get through the gates before the Kushanāda close them and put down the rebels."

There was an uneasy silence as Cain digested this information, the look on his unshaven face revealing just how distasteful he found the prospect of bowing before Baraggan.

Kokutō understood his feelings on the matter more than anyone else possibly could.

With a resigned sigh, Cain marched back over to the map, carefully took it off the wall, rolled it back up, and returned it to its small alcove in the wall before turning to face Kokutō.

"Obviously he can't know who I really am," he said finally. "If possible, I'd prefer to never have to meet him at all."

"I can't guarantee that you won't encounter him at some point over the next couple of days, but it's unlikely he'll recognize you. Pick a name to hide behind if you want, though I doubt it'll be necessary; if anyone asks, you are simply my new assistant."

"Your assistant?" said Cain, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Watch it, Kokutō…"

"Calm yourself, Cain; it's just a cover story, one that's easily believable," reasoned the scarred togabito. "As the king's top advisor, I have a lot of things to deal with and keep track of; it's not a stretch to think that I may require an assistant to run errands for me."

"Don't get carried away with this little charade," warned Cain. "I don't like being second to _any_ man."

"But you most certainly are _not_ second to me," Kokutō placated him. "You know that, I know that, and those in on the plan will know that, but what does it matter if Baraggan and his foolish followers don't? They're all going to die in the rebellion, so let them believe a lie if it helps us achieve our goals."

"This is only a temporary thing," Cain spat. "Once we're free, the act ends."

"Of course, of course," agreed Kokutō readily. "And I'll do my best to keep you from having to deal with Baraggan at all as long as you do your best to keep your temper in check."

"I'll do what needs to be done," Cain grunted as he headed for the exit. "You just keep up your end of the arrangement."

"Don't worry," Kokutō said softly as the other man disappeared down the tunnel, "I'll take care of everything."

Cain was dangerous, far too dangerous to be allowed to live after the invasion was complete, which meant Kokutō only had a few more days to come up with a way to get around Cain's abilities and put an end to him, but he knew he'd come up with something.

Oh yes, indeed; he would take care of _everything_.


	5. The Party

**Party**

Of all the ways there were to spend an evening, Anrak Ushii decided that there were certainly worse alternatives to watching his wife excitedly get ready for the party. He couldn't help but grin as Neliel danced around their quarters listening to a small radio in the corner play _Monster Mash_ as she finished buttoning up her "costume" for the evening; Anrak may not have been as enthusiastic as his lieutenant, but her joy was infectious and he found himself relaxing more and more as she celebrated.

Of course, her chosen "costume" for the night wasn't really anything new; she had gone through the closet and dug out her old Espada whites, citing that it had been years since she wore them and tonight would be a good opportunity.

"You look good in white," he told her softly as she danced her way right by him and into the small area that served as their living room, right over to the glass container sitting near the door.

_ She'd look even better on fire, _muttered Kagi darkly from her shadowy inner world as Nel reached inside the sand-filled aquarium to gently pet her tiny companion, the lizard hollow she had affectionately named Chompy. The tiny creature shamelessly enjoyed the attention, but it was all too brief; after only a few seconds, Neliel removed her hand from the aquarium and secured the lid back in place.

"The first time you saw me wearing this, the day we met, you tried to kill me," she reminded her husband with a teasing grin as she straightened out her long, green locks with her hands, using her reflection in the aquarium's glass as a mirror . The captain turned a bit red from embarrassment and looked away, but Neliel simply laughed it off and wrapped her arms around him tightly, kissing him. "I _do_ forgive you, you know…"

"Mm, I know; I just haven't forgiven myself yet," replied Anrak with an apologetic. "Not my finest moment, that's for sure."

_ It would have been if you had actually succeeded_…

"Well, first impressions don't get much more memorable than that," giggled Nel, giving him another gentle kiss. "It was a very unique approach to get my attention."

"All part of the plan, _koibito_," Anrak chuckled as Kagi began to make obnoxious gagging-sounds in his skull.

"Anyway…" said Neliel with a sly grin as she pulled away from him finally, "it's about time for the party and you haven't put your costume on yet."

"My _what_?" asked Anrak, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not wearing a costume."

"But I bought you the _perfect_ outfit!" Nel explained. "Come on, just give it a look!"

"Nope, not happening," said the captain defiantly, folding his arms across his chest. "I draw the line at wearing a ridiculous costume."

"It's _not_ ridiculous!" reasoned his wife, retrieving a shopping bag from the corner of the room and opening it to show him the contents. "See?"

Anrak peered in the bag, cautiously reaching in and riffling through the contents.

"Is that a wig?" he asked, unconsciously running a hand through his own short, brown hair.

"Well, yeah; your hair isn't really long enough on it's own and-"

"Pass," he interrupted her. "Not wearing it."

_ See, if we had just killed her like _I_ wanted, you wouldn't be in this situation right now!_

"Oh, come on!" she pleaded. "It's all in good fun!"

"_Whose_ fun?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Everyone!" Nel exclaimed. "Come on, it's your favorite character!"

"Nel, I don't think-" he began, only to have her cut him off.

"Please? For me?" she asked, pouting.

"I'm not falling for that this time," he said, but the arrancar's response was to push her bottom lip out further and widen her soft, hazel eyes by another fraction.

_ Don't do it, baka!_ demanded Kagi vehemently. _Don't you _dare_ fall for that look again!_

"…alright, give it here…" he said with a resigned sigh.

The only thing louder than Nel's victory cheer was the silent sound of Kagi's frustrated scream.

* * *

Another day, another round of suffering through King Baraggan's insipid egotistical ranting… Kokutō sighed as he trudged across the molten fields towards the king's court as per the summons that had been sent for him, wondering what perceived slight by some insignificant nobody had set Baraggan off _this_ time; last time, it had been because he heard someone refer to a nobleman as 'Lord' and the time before _that_ had been because a new arrival had made an offhand comment about how he'd run Hell were he in charge.

"Have you considered simply killing him and _pretending_ to be Baraggan? Use your followers to relay commands from the king's sanctum?" asked Cain as he marched beside Kokutō. "The rest of Hell doesn't really _need_ to see him so long as they think he's still around and issuing orders from his throne room."

"Except that Baraggan likes to be seen by his followers every now and then so he can drink in their worship," said Kokutō with a hint of disgust in his voice. "People would definitely get suspicious if he were to suddenly become a recluse like you."

"And you can't use anyone less-pompous because the fool had to go and make himself an idol to the masses by killing a couple of the Kushanāda…"

"There are no words to express how much I'd like to kill him myself…" Kokutō growled to his companion. "The fact I won't be able to is the only part of the plan that upsets me. Besides, we need his strength to ensure the guardians are kept busy long enough for us to open the gates."

Cain said nothing further on the matter as they continued their trek across the hot terrain, letting his bare feet carry him to his first meeting with "King" Baraggan. Off to their right lay a field of geysers spewing their superheated, acidic water into the air, and the screams coming from the area told them both that some unlucky fool had gotten caught in the eruptions.

Then again, perhaps someone threw him in.

Neither man so much as twitched at the bloodcurdling sound; it was nothing new, nothing uncommon, and nothing that concerned them.

Off to their left was a small river of lava some 5 meters across with an rickety-looking bridge cobbled together from stone and bone spanning across it. A couple of souls nervously made their way across, desperately hoping it wouldn't collapse under their weight. One of the other bridges had collapsed not too long ago, sending nearly a dozen souls plunging down into the unforgiving molten rock where they were promptly incinerated.

There had been no mourning for those that were lost, no moment of silence in respect; no one, not a soul, had cared.

Such was Hell.

They exited the burning fields and entered a more-crowded "commons" area not too far from the King's cave. Hundreds of souls milled about the area, many hoping to receive an audience with their great king so that they could pledge their loyalty or seek a favor. Others were best described as "groupies" who simply wanted to be near their king out of overwhelming adoration.

Disgusting.

Kokutō shoved his way through the sea of people towards the mouth of the cave. Eight guards stood in a row, blocking all from entering the cave and bothering King Baraggan but they recognized Kokutō as the king's chief advisor and parted for him.

They promptly moved back to block Cain.

The Old One curled his fist, preparing to smash their heads open when Kokutō called for their attention.

"Gentlemen, please; he's with me. This is my new assistant and a loyal subject of the King," he said with a smile. "I'm sure the great Lord Baraggan would be distressed if he heard you were hindering his humble advisor by harassing my assistant."

The guards held their position a moment longer, polearms crossed to bar Cain from entry, but Kokutō maintained his quietly-threatening grin that all but promised he would bring Baraggan's wrath down upon them.

Baraggan wouldn't really give a shit, of course, but the simple-minded guards didn't need to know that.

"The King will be angry if we're late," said Cain, doing a masterful job of containing his violent temper. "I question if he will be angrier with us or with those who delayed us."

The guards all looked from Kokutō to Cain and then at each other before slowly parting and allowing The Old One to pass.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Kokutō said pleasantly. "Keep up the good work."

The guards didn't acknowledge him as they returned to their respective positions, crossing their polearms as the throngs of people on the other side begin to try and force their way in, some demanding to know why Kokutō and Cain were allowed entrance while they were denied.

If he could have feasibly traded places with them, Kokutō would have done so in a heartbeat.

"Well, then," he said, turning to Cain, "shall we go see what our great King wants?"

"Let's just get this over with."

* * *

To be fair, there were a lot more people in costume at the party than Anrak had expected: demons, vampires, angels, policemen, cowboys, samurai, robots, dinosaurs, pirates, and a giant chicken were all scattered about the mess hall, mingling, snacking, and dancing. There had been a few more outside gathered around the bonfire in costumes he couldn't quite identify, but he was fairly confident that they were popular characters within the human world.

All in all, it helped him feel _slightly_ more at ease about being in costume himself, though he'd feel more comfortable still if his kimono were blue rather than pink.

A couple of his subordinates who'd already had a bit too much to drink this early into the party wandered by and saw him, stopping to stare for a moment. A grin broke out across their faces and they opened their mouth to give their captain a little ribbing, but a dark scowl on Anrak's face quickly persuaded them to say nothing and just move along.

_ You think _you're_ embarrassed? _Kagi growled. _I don't want to be seen here, either!_

_** It's only for a couple of hours**_**, **came his nonverbal reply.

_ Too long!_

The Espada in the room danced her way over to his side, handing him a red plastic cup of punch laced with a small amount of sake, just as he had requested earlier. Neliel looked at him appraisingly as he took a sip of his punch and he twitched under the scrutiny, pulling the cup away from his lips. "What?"

"I don't think Kenshin Himura is supposed to scowl that much and scare everybody," she observed. "You need to smile a bit more!"

"I would have preferred to go as his manslayer personality," Anrak muttered. "Though I'd really prefer not to wear a silly costume at all."

"Lighten up!" she laughed it off, kissing his cheek quickly before straightening his long, messy red wig for him.

"I _will_ get you back for this," he promised her sourly. "Mark my words, dear, I will find a way."

_ I have a few ideas there…_

_** Kagi…**_

"So bitter…" Nel said, shaking her head. "Well, _I_ think you make a great Kenshin."

"I feel absolutely ridiculous."

"Oh, come on; you liked the character enough to suggest Kenshin as a name if we ever have a son."

"But I would _never_ make him wear pink."

"Sorry, but they were out of dark blue kimonos in your size," Nel assured him. "Besides, you _should_ be dressed more like the heroic version of the character than the killer version."

Anrak grunted rather than argue as he finished off his punch-sake and discarded the plastic cup into a nearby trashcan. Out on the dance floor he managed to observe Rukia Kuchiki, misleadingly dressed as an angel in pure white with a pair of feathery wings attached to her back, dancing with a positively devilish-looking Ichigo, complete with red horns, a fake mustache, and a little spaded tail attached to his pants.

"It's so nice to see them not bickering for once," Nel said softly, smiling. "I always worry about them with the way they argue."

"Bickering is the bread and butter of their relationship," Anrak countered. "Things would fall apart if they actually managed to get along all the time."

There were several snack tables set up around the large room featuring everything from candy to chips to cupcakes, popcorn, doughnuts, and all points in-between, but at the moment the largest crowd by far was gathered around the table that had a trio of massive pots sitting on it. Everyone had a small Styrofoam bowl, sampling the treat, and many were fanning themselves and sweating as the rapidly downed punch.

"It's actually very good," Nel told her husband. "Spicy, but delicious!"

"I know; I tried a bowl earlier while you were socializing," replied the captain, nodding towards a costumed man standing not too far away, watching the crowd with interest. "Jean can certainly cook, can't he?"

The man in question, Jean Rawlings of Squad 6, or as he was known tonight, the 'Phantom of the Opera,' noticed the two officers looking his way and casually strolled over.

"Evenin,' Cap'n," he greeted with a bow. "Evenin' ta ya, too, Miss Nel. Heck of a party ya got goin' on here."

"People are certainly more into it than I expected…" Anrak admitted.

"Jean," Nel began, "the soup you made; can I get the recipe? I don't try cooking much, but I _really_ like your dish!"

_ Because the last time she tried cooking, she managed to explode a giant pot of spaghetti all over the mess hall…_

_** Accidents happen, Kagi; give her a break.**_

_ How the hell do you make spaghetti explode?! There were noodles stuck to the ceiling for a week!_

"Shucks now, you gunna make me blush, Lieutenant," said Jean with an embarrassed smile as he pulled his white mask away from his face. "T'aint soup, though; is Gumbo, good ol' Cajun Gumbo."

"Sorry," Neliel apologized with a smile. "I didn't know."

"T'aint a big deal," Jean assured her. "I make it jes like my mama did way back when. Glad ta hear ya like it, an I'll be glad ta getcha tha recipe."

"Thanks, because I don't think I'll be able to get another bowl tonight," said Nel. "I think the crowd over there has just about eaten all three pots!"

"Good thing I got three more a'cookin' in tha kitchen, then," said Jean, laughing. "Though I guess they done cookin' really; they jes sittin' on tha stove ta stay warm. Ya jes switch 'em out when these out here get empty an y'all be good ta go."

"I'm going to sneak back to the kitchen and grab another bowl while I can, then," said Nel with a mischievous grin. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Wait jes a minute, Miss Nel, if'n ya would; I'll go with ya," said Jean before turning back to Anrak. "Now dun get tha wrong idea, Cap'n; I jes got a special batch back there that I dun wan no one a'touching. It's for _Sha_, ya see. I think I ought ta go take it ta her 'fore tha night's over."

"I'm not worried, Jean," Anrak assured him. "You are coming back after you deliver that batch to her, I hope."

"Of course! I like y'alls party a heck of a lot more than what Cap'n Kuchiki has back home an if'n I know Sha, hers ain't gunna be much better than his."

"Good," said the captain with a smile. Jean gave him a quick and informal salute as he resumed heading for the kitchen, but he'd only taken a couple of steps before he turned back around for a quick moment.

"And Cap'n? Tha pink looks good on ya!" called Rawlings sincerely.

Anrak's scowl returned as the Cajun and the lieutenant disappeared into the kitchen.

"I _really_ hate Halloween…"

* * *

Despite King Baraggan's notorious ego, his throne room was surprisingly plain with no grand murals of his "greatness" adorning the walls, no trophies of his conquests since arriving in Hell, no real hint of any kind of opulence save for his throne of bones. The large and ancient man sat on said throne, eyeing Kokutō closely while projecting an air of smug superiority as he waited for the togabito to kneel before him. The guards had not disarmed him prior to allowing him entry, as usual, and just as usual Kokutō had to fight the instinctive urge to draw his blade and cut down the arrogant fool before him.

With a forced-yet-convincing smile, Kokutō knelt before the king and bowed his head respectfully and though he hesitated momentarily, Cain followed his example.

"I summoned _you_, Kokutō, not this…_peasant_," growled Baraggan in annoyance as he narrowed his eyes at Cain.

"Ah, but Great King, he is my new assistant," Kokutō explained, raising his head. "I stay so busy carrying out your orders, My Lord, that I found myself in need of help; someone to run small errands for me, someone to remind me of my many, many duties… I never stop working for you or your goals, Great King."

"Oh?" Baraggan intoned gravely, a tiny hint of disbelief showing on his wrinkled face. "You do indeed work hard and I suppose you are entitled to a slave to relieve some of the burden, but do not let it go to your head."

"Of course not, Lord; I know who the _true _master is," Kokutō assured him, nothing that Cain had stiffened at being called a slave. It was fortunate that The Old One still had his head bowed which kept the king from seeing the expression of rage that was no doubt etched on his face at that moment.

"Does it have a name?"

"Abel, My Lord," said Cain of his own accord, finally raising his head to look at Baraggan. Kokutō could notice that his expression was strained as he fought to control his temper and he hoped Baraggan wouldn't be as observant.

"I was speaking to your master, not to _you_," said Baraggan, raising his voice as he stood from his throne. "Step out of line again and your service, your very _existence_, will come to an end!"

"Forgive him, Great King!" said Kokutō quickly, jumping in before Cain's temper got the better of him and led to Baraggan's demise. "He meant no disrespect; he is simply new to the court and its rules. Please, My Lord, be merciful."

"Only this once, and only because you serve me so _well_, Kokutō," Baraggan growled, though there was a strange note of sarcasm in the way he said 'well.' "There will be no mercy next time."

"Of course, My Lord. Thank you," said Kokutō, breathing a sigh of relief as Cain managed to reign his temper in and lower his head once more. "How may we serve you today, Great King? We made haste to get here as soon as we received your summons."

"There are a couple of troubling matters to address, Kokutō…" began Baraggan as he sat his massive frame back down upon his throne. "The first is that I've heard reports of a colony in the Western Firelands who refuse to be part of my grand army in the rebellion. I _thought_ you promised me that I had all of Hell at my disposal."

"Such is what they assured me, Great King," Kokutō answered. "I went to the majority of the colonies myself and obtained their solemn vow of allegiance and for those that I could not visit personally, I sent an official envoy. The Western Firelands spoke with me directly, Lord, and they assured me they would be ready."

"Then they appear to have changed their mind," said Baraggan angrily. "They sent word today that they will not take up arms against the Kushanāda."

"Then they are fools, My Lord. I shall send someone out to…_renegotiate_ with them," promised the togabito.

"They must be made to submit, Kokutō. I cannot allow them to disrupt my plans; if they will not cooperate, they must be eliminated."

"It will be done, Great King."

"Good…" grumbled Baraggan. "Now, onto that last piece of business…"

"Yes, My Lord?" asked Kokutō.

"Tell me about these secret meetings you've been having behind my back…"

* * *

Parties were, at best, a nuisance. At worst, they were a distraction that would make people go soft; too many snacks, too much alcohol, excessive frivolity could all lean to the downfall of a well-organized combat unit, and the Stealth Force was the most vulnerable of all the Seireitei's forces.

Captain Sui-Feng had initially been against the idea of partying; she had voted no on the idea during the Captain's Meeting last month and though she had lost that particular battle, she had taken solace in the fact that the decision to have a party or not was being given to each individual captain to do as they felt was best for their squad.

Sui-Feng's decision had been immediate; there would be no party and no one would be allowed to attend the festivities going on in the other divisions.

She'd thought it was the most prudent decision, the only _real_ decision…and then her damnedable lieutenant had disagreed with her, of course.

By his own admission, Tatter de Malion didn't even _care_ for parties himself and would likely not attend, but he had reasoned that a tiny bit of leeway would ultimately do more good for the squad than strict orders like "no fun, _ever_."

"If you don't let them do _something_, you'll just be encouraging them to sneak out and go to the other divisions, orders be damned," he'd told her. "That's what _I'd_ do if I really wanted some excitement."

There had been a certain degree of logic in his statement and she knew it would be nigh-impossible to catch and identify all who would sneak out. Against her personal wishes, yesterday morning she had finally reversed her stance and given permission to the squad to throw a small party.

"Keep it small and keep it quiet," she'd warned them darkly. "No loud music, no excessive drinking, no stupid costumes, no gaudy decorations… I'm giving you all just enough rope to hang yourselves; if you let this get out of hand, I promise it will be the _last_ party any of you _ever_ attend."

And now here she was, sitting in her office, alone, straining her ears for the slightest hint of too much noise in the mess hall.

Nothing.

She had stopped by the party earlier purely to check in and make sure everyone was behaving and she had been moderately pleased to see that music had been kept to a respectable volume, there did not appear to be any alcohol present, and her subordinates appeared to be enjoying themselves just fine with some conversation and a little dancing. She'd spied Tatter off in the corner, leaning against the wall and observing the crowd, and then she had left, content with the knowledge that they had _some_ measure of adult supervision present.

The office was clean, utterly immaculate, and all of the paperwork for the week had long since been finished, leaving Sui-Feng to sit in silence with nothing to do.

Well, not _quite_ nothing.

She reached down and unlocked the bottom drawer on the right-hand side of her desk, sliding it open and retrieving a small book from inside. She ran her hands over the cover, softly smiling at the cartoonish bee that graced it. It had been a gift from Lady Yoruichi shortly after the reunion between master and student in the days following Aizen's betrayal.

"You keep too much bottled up inside, Sui-Feng," her mentor had said. "It's not healthy. I worry about you, you know. I've always worried about you and just because I disappeared for a hundred years doesn't mean I stopped. If you won't share your true thoughts and feelings with others, than share them with this; I think it'll help you in the long run."

The petite captain had wanted to argue the point; there was absolutely _no way_ something as juvenile as a diary could help ease her frustrations but she could not bring herself to say no to Lady Yoruichi.

"And now, here I am…" she muttered, opening the book and picking up a pen.

Much as she had been against the idea at first, she had soon discovered that Lady Yoruichi had indeed been correct; writing down the thoughts she dared not tell another soul helped her find some small measure of peace, helped her relax.

Sui-Feng idly began putting down her thoughts for today, about the party, about her lieutenant, about the squad, the impending All Hollow's Eve deployments, about Lady Yoruichi, about that damned idiot running Squad 13... She was _really_ starting to get going when there was a sudden knocking at the office door. The captain growled as she closed her diary and quickly returned it to her desk drawer, locking it shut.

"Enter," she called out finally. If this was some fool asking her to come join the party…

The door opened to reveal a fool in costume: a fine-looking black suit, a cape, and a white mask that covered the upper portion of his face, revealing nothing but his mouth and jaw, which allowed the captain to see his broad grin. In his hands he carried a small metal pot and the smell of something spicy within assaulted Sui-Feng's nose even from this distance.

"I thought I told you idiots 'no costumes…'" she growled bitterly. The man's easy smile became a disappointed frown at that.

"Come on now, Sha, dun be like that," soothed a familiar voice. "Tis supposed ta be a night o' fun for all, ain't it?"

"We all define 'fun' differently, Rawlings," she countered, softening her hostile tone somewhat. "What the hell are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"Can't ya tell? I'm tha Phantom o' tha Opera!"

"I'll take your word for it…" she said, standing up from her seat and moving around to stand in front of her desk as the Cajun shinigami entered. "What's in the pot? If this is some kind of silly holiday prank-"

"Sha, ya know me betta than that!" he exclaimed, sounding almost offended. "This here's some good ol' Cajun Gumbo; made it myself fo' Cap'n Ushii's party an I thought I'd bring ya a bit o' it."

"Didn't make any for your own captain's party?" asked Sui-Feng, raising an eyebrow.

"Cap'n Kuchiki has a dif'rent idea 'bout what a party should be," explained Jean as the petite captain cleaned off a spot on the desk for the pot. "S'all high society-like with him; ain't no music, ain't no costumes, ain't no alcohol, ain't no dancin' and ain't no dang _fun_."

"So, what? Everyone is just standing around sipping tea and talking?"

"Yep," confirmed the strange man. "I reckon it's fine if'n ya like that sort o' thing, but I want things ta be a bit more relaxed, ya know?" He paused a moment as he took the lid off the pot. "Sides, I kinda don't think Cap'n Kuchiki would like my Gumbo."

"Jean…just what the _hell_ is in there?" asked Sui-Feng as she peered over into the pot. Jean just laughed as he took the spoon that was inside and stirred it around some.

"Oh, Cap'n, Gumbo got a bit o' _everything_ in it," he said. "Tha's what makes it gumbo!"

"I see meat that I can't identify, vegetables I've never seen before, and just how much spice did you put in this thing?"

"Tha perfect amount, Sha!" he crowed with pride. "Try some!'

Sui-Feng eyed the mysterious meal as if it were a weapon before glancing back at Jean's broad, comforting smile. With a sigh, she took the spoon from his hand and carefully extracted a bit of the stew. She hesitated a moment more as it reached her mouth, the scent of the spices mercilessly pounding her nose into oblivion. Steeling herself one last time, she popped the spoon in her mouth.

"Well?" asked Jean. "What'cha think?"

"It…_burns!_" choked Sui-Feng, scrambling for the small pot of tea she kept on the counter and quickly drinking it all.

"Ya don' like it, do ya?" asked Jean, sounding disappointed.

"Jean, I think it would be perfect with just a bit less spice and…were those hot peppers?"

"T'aint real gumbo, then," he said before shrugging. "But tha's alright; next time I'll jes leave out all tha spices for ya. I reckon I'll jes go dump this-"

"No, Jean, it's…" Sui-Feng began, hesitating a moment. "It's _fine_, Jean; I was just a little unprepared. But I can't eat all of this myself; go find another spoon and a bowl and help me."

"Hey, what about me?" asked a voice from the doorway. The two shinigami turned to see Tatter standing there with a trio of bowls, some spoons, and a massive jug of punch that had been meant for the party. "You two ever think _I_ might want some, too?"

"Of course, lieutenant!" exclaimed Jean. "Pull up a seat an fix yesself a bowl! Plenty ta go 'round!"

"Just wanted to make sure I wasn't interrupting anything," said the lieutenant smoothly, teasingly, as he entered. "Thought this might possibly be a private party."

"Aw, no, ain't nothin' like that!" Jean assured him. "Sha an I are jes friends."

"Really?" asked Tatter wryly. "And here I didn't think the captain _had_ any friends."

"Shut up and eat before I drown you in the stew," growled Sui-Feng menacingly.

"Ah, there's the captain's infamously-charming people skills…"

"Come on now, don' be like that!" the Cajun chided them. "We all friends here, ya?"

"Of course," said Tatter with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, guys; I just couldn't resist."

"Well, ain't no harm done, I reckon. Come on, then, eat up 'fore it gets cold!"

* * *

Kokutō took in the dozen spear points that were now at his and Cain's throats as they knelt before King Baraggan, observing how tense the guards were, how they were fully prepared to skewer the two if they so much as flinched. Baraggan himself had stood back up from his throne and had shouldered his massive black battleaxe over his shoulder as he waited for an answer.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he thundered. "Did you think you could hide anything from _me?_"

"Of course not, Great King," Kokutō said, making a show of quivering in fear. The guards could be easily dispatched if he so desired by pairing his speed and strength with Cain's unique ability to reflect all damage back at his attackers, but he desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that. Baraggan was still a crucial pawn and things would be much harder if he were to die prematurely.

A sideways glance towards Cain's still-bowed head gave him a partial view of a mad grin as The Old One simply _waited_ for them to try and kill him.

"Someone_ loyal_ to me saw you and several others entering a cave the other day for some sort of secret meeting, a meeting that I was not invited to nor made aware of…" Baraggan began, rage flashing in his eyes. "Do you think to overthrow me, Kokutō? Are you that foolishly ambitious? Have you forgotten _who I am?!_"

"My King, it is not what you think," Kokutō said, hoping the old fool would listen to reason, even if that reason was all a lie.

"Isn't it?" sneered Baraggan. "You're not the first who thought to usurp me and you won't be the last. Your treachery ends _here_, Kokutō!"

"Great King, please, have I not earned the right to plead my case? Have I not served you well in the past?" asked Kokutō.

"You have served, yes, but were you truly serving me?" questioned Baraggan. "Fine, then; state your case before you die."

"Your plan, Great King, is flawless. There is no doubt it will succeed, but Hell is a large place and you cannot be everywhere at once. Do you think the average rabble would be able to stand against a Kushanāda on their own?"

"Of course not," said Baraggan arrogantly. "Only _I_ possess the strength to take down a Kushanāda solo."

"Indeed, but there are so many! I thought it wise to assemble some of your most loyal followers, some of the most powerful warriors in Hell beneath you, and task them with overseeing the various battles across the pit. These are men and women who know the enemy, Great King, and they understand war; they can lead the masses through the battles that you cannot be there for personally," explained Kokutō, still pretending to tremble under Baraggan's unforgiving iron gaze.

"Why have you not brought this to my attention before now?" asked the arrancar. "If even a single word of this is true, why have you said nothing to me?"

"My King, you have so _much_ to do already, I did not want to bother you with such trivial matters. Am I not your most trusted adviser? I sought only to make the most of that trust and relieve you of some of the burden of planning a full-scale rebellion," said Kokutō, bowing his head deeper. "I meant no disrespect and certainly no harm; I only wanted to ensure the success of your master plan."

"Really?" asked Baraggan before turning to Cain slowly. "Slave… Abel, was it? Does your master here speak the truth? If you confirm his treachery, his job can be yours; you will no longer be a slave, but will instead become my chief adviser and enjoy all the perks that come with the position. Turn in this traitor and you will reap the rewards of your honesty."

There was a tense silence before Cain finally raised his head to look Baraggan in the eye.

"It is as Kokutō says, My King," he said finally. "We have been hard at work preparing the generals for your grand army. We have spent long hours discussing strategy, verifying numbers, calculating every possible contingency, overseeing the forging and distribution of weapons… You have so many visitors seeking an audience with you that we thought it best to handle the more minute details so that you may concentrate on the truly important matters."

"Are you sure of that, Abel?" questioned Baraggan, motioning for his guards to step back and allow Cain to stand. "Think about what I am offering you; a position of power, a role of luxury you will never know otherwise… All you need do is tell me what treachery Kokutō has planned."

"I have thought about it, My Liege," Cain said as he slowly stood up, "but I would by lying if I said Kokutō was plotting against you and lying serves neither of us; Kokutō is the best adviser you could want, Great King; he is loyal to a fault and works tirelessly to make sure your will is done. It is sometimes difficult to keep up with him in his pursuit of paving the way for your glory."

Baraggan seemed to think about this for a long moment before he slowly turned back to Kokutō, He waved the guards off, letting them step back and resume their original posts as he took his massive ax and lowered the blade down in front of Kokutō's face.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear when I say that I will not tolerate treachery in my court," Baraggan rumbled. "It is by my grace and my grace alone that you get to keep your head, Kokutō, but learn from this mistake; from now on, you do _nothing_ without my authorization. You have no rights and you have no authority to take matters-even trivial matters-into your own hands without first seeking _my_ permission."

"Yes, My Lord, of cou-" Kokutō began, only to be silence as Baraggan hefted his ax back and swung, striking Kokutō in the face with the broadside of the blade and sending the togabito flying across the cavern and into the stone wall. The rock cracked underneath the impact and Kokutō slid down the wall to the ground, blood pouring from a busted nose, a split lip, and a torn scalp.

"Next time…" Baraggan began, pausing dramatically before continuing, "There had better not _be_ a next time, Kokutō."

Kokutō coughed, spitting up blood as he slowly got back to his feet and gave Baraggan a deep bow.

"I assure you, Lord Baraggan, there won't be," he said, trembling in rage rather than fear, but Baraggan was too smug with his own self-importance to notice the difference. "I have learned my lesson, Great King. _Thank you_ for your mercy."

"I'll be watching you, Kokutō," Baraggan warned. "All of my _loyal_ agents will be watching you. Do not step out of line again."

"I won't, My Lord."

"Go then, and take care of that troublesome colony in the Western Firelands," commanded Baraggan, dismissing them. Both Kokutō and Cain bowed before the ancient warlord as they excused themselves from his chamber and heading up the winding corridor to the surface.

Neither man said a word through the passageways and neither made a sound as the guards at the mouth of the cave parted to allow them to exit. They traveled in silence for several long minutes until at last they were alone.

"I'm surprised you didn't kill him…" Cain observed. "We could have killed everyone in the throne room and still kept up the _illusion_ that the fool was alive."

"Not worth the risk this close to All Hollow's Eve," Kokutō grunted, rearranging the black bandages around his head to sponge up the blood from his scalp rather than cover the scarred half of his face.

"He is more petty than I dared imagine," Cain said. "I understand why you wish to kill him yourself."

"If I had not made myself virtually indispensable to him, that would have gone much differently," Kokutō said. "And Abel? Hiding behind your brother's name? Is that a sign of regret from The Old One?"

"Any regret I may have ever had, any morals, have long since been burned away by this cursed place," Cain said with a scowl. "You learn to do what's necessary to get by."

"Such as taking an ax to the face…" Kokutō agreed. "Well, we can't waste time dwelling on it; we have an army to organize and an escape to commit."

"What of the Western Firelands? Ignore them?"

"We can't, unfortunately," Kokutō sighed. "Baraggan has given an order and you can be sure that _now_ he'll be watching to make sure it's carried out. I'll send Nobunaga and Nnoitra to deal with them."

"And in another twenty-four hours, it all comes to an end one way or another," Cain said.

"No," Kokutō corrected him, "in twenty-four hours, we will be _free_."


	6. Deployment

**Deployment**

To call the sight before him would have been an understatement of positively criminal proportions; a mess would be a step up from this…from this…_disaster_.

The Division 13 mess hall and surrounding grounds were an absolute wreck from last night's party: trashcans were overflowing, food that had been left out overnight was attracting flies, punch and sake had been spilt _everywhere_, the remains of the bonfire outside was still smoldering, decorations had come loose from their proper places and fluttered down to the ground with the rest of the trash, and there were a small handful of shinigami lying about the filth, snoozing away in a drunken stupor.

With an annoyed sigh, he walked over to the closest man and nudged him with his foot. The auburn-haired man grunted in his sleep and swatted at the offending foot as he rolled over and began snoring louder. Now _really_ annoyed, the captain gave the man a light kick in his backside, just hard enough to snap the sleepy shinigami awake.

He rolled over and looked up at the captain with bleary eyes, squinting against the sunlight that was streaming in through the open windows as he took in the black-clad figure in the white haori towering above him. "Captain Ushii, what are you doin' in my quarters?"

"This isn't your room, Klein," Anrak informed him. "You're still in the mess hall where you passed out last night."

"I passed out?" asked the man, blinking in confusion.

"You and several of your buddies," confirmed the captain. "Get up, get _them_ up, and go to the barracks; if you're going to sleep, sleep there. Just make sure you're up in time for your deployment this evening."

"Yes, Sir," said the man, covering his mouth and the stubble on his chin with his hand as he attempted to hide a yawn.

Anrak watched him slowly get to his feet and begin making his way around the mess hall, stopping at each dozing shinigami to shake them awake and usher them back to the barracks. As the group finally left the mess hall, Kiyone and Sentaro stumbled in armed with a mop, a bucket, a broom, and a handful of fresh trash bags.

They weren't arguing with each other for a change and neither did they rush over to him for their usual round of kissing-up in order to score points with their commanding officer. Anrak noted that the pair seemed to be barely awake and were functioning on auto-pilot more than anything else as they mechanically began to clean up the messy mess hall. Sentaro hiccupped and the sent of sake on his breath that wafted over said everything.

"Am I the only person in the squad who _didn't_ get hammered last night?" he asked aloud. The tipsy duo looked over in his direction with glassy eyes, big grins lighting up their faces.

"Hiya, Captain!"

"Good morning, Captain!"

"I said 'hi' first, you little booger; stop copying me!"

"Don't start, please," Anrak said. "Just…no bickering today, okay?"

"Yes, Sir!" they chirped in perfect sync. Anrak motioned for them to resume cleaning as he took one of the empty garbage bags from Kiyone and began making his way around the room, disposing of all the leftovers still sitting on the tables.

"Surely the lieutenant didn't get drunk, right, Captain? Nel almost never drinks," said Kiyone.

"Well-" Anrak began, only to be cut off by the arrancar in question as she stumbled into the room, merrily spinning on her heel as if dancing, her green hair and equally-green sash trailing behind her. She stumbled a bit, giggling as she hiccupped.

"Good morning, everyone! Wasn't that a great party?" she gushed, her cheeks a telltale rosy shade that contrasted rather sharply with her black shihakushō.

"Someone appears to have spiked the punch," Anrak dryly finished his earlier statement. "And when I find out who…"

"Oh, don't be like that, honey…" Neliel cooed as she wobbled over towards him, losing her balance and falling forward into her captain's arms. "It was fun, you had fun, I had fun, we all had fun…"

"Fun, yes, but we need to set some ground rules in place before we ever do this again," he said softly, pausing a moment. "And remember, we're supposed to be professional while on duty, so call me Captain, okay?"

"Yes, Captain Honey," she giggled as she stood up straight and gave him a goofy little salute.

"Close enough," said Anrak, shaking his head with a wry smile as he went back to cleaning off the tables. Neliel followed behind him for a moment before sitting down on a cleared end of one of the tables, watching him work with a lazy yawn. "I suppose I should just be thankful nothing caught fire."

_ It's not too late for something or _someone_ to catch fire…_

"It may be a big mess now, Captain, but it was really worth it," Kiyone assured him. "I think everyone had a blast last night and we all appreciate you letting us throw such an awesome party!"

"I'm glad it was such a big hit, but this mess has got to be cleaned up and _next _time, I don't want to find people sleeping in my mess hall and I damn sure don't want people spiking the punch."

"The lieutenant still can't handle her liquor, can she?" asked Kiyone with a grin as she nodded towards the cleaned-off table where Neliel now lay curled up fast asleep.

"No, no she can't…" said Anrak, smirking as he nodded over in Sentaro's general direction. "And it would appear that she's not the only one."

The dark-haired and usually loud-mouthed man was out cold, but still managing to stand up by leaning against his mop. He was snoring lightly, his mouth open as he drooled slightly, the saliva falling down and pooling in the floor at his feet.

"Oh, come _on!_" declared Kiyone loudly, snapping Sentaro awake. "I drank more than you did last night, you big sissy!"

"I'm awake, I'm awake!' Sentaro bellowed suddenly, looking around wildly before settling his eyes on Anrak. "Good morning, Captain! When did you get here?"

"I…you know what? Never mind," he said. "You two just get back to cleaning while I," he said, putting his half-full trash bag down and scooping up his sleeping wife in his arms, "take the lieutenant back to bed. I'll be back in a few minutes after I drop her off."

"Don't worry, Captain!" Kiyone said brightly as Anrak exited the building. "We'll have this place looking like new by the time you get back, right, Sentaro?"

The sound of someone snoring was her only answer and the young soul reaper turned back around to see that her companion had fallen asleep again, still leaning on his mop.

"Wake up, you butthead!"

* * *

Kokutō wasn't used to being under scrutiny, but he was adaptable enough to deal with it. There would be no more meetings with his followers, but it shouldn't be necessary so long as everyone followed his instructions from their last get-together to the letter. The rebellion and their freedom was drawing ever closer, now only a few hours away according to his man stationed near the gates to query new arrivals.

The troublesome colony in the Western Firelands had been quickly-and ruthlessly-dealt with by Nobunaga and Nnoitra, who had apparently decided to skip any attempt at negotiation in favor of straight-up slaughter.

Hardly a surprise.

News of the colony's utter destruction had quickly swept throughout Hell and countless communications had come in from other colonies to renew their pledges to King Baraggan and his rebellion, but this was hardly a surprise, either; it was all part of the plan, a plan that was working wonderfully as the renewed pledges bloated Baraggan's ego even further and kept him blind to the truth of Kokutō's secret meetings.

The rebellion would be swiftly put down, everyone in on the truth knew as much, but still they needed as much time as possible to pad their escape. To that end, the last order Kokutō had managed to relay to his loyal followers had been to do their best to prepare the men of Baraggan's army for the coming battle.

Cao Cao had spent much of the last day teaching tactics and martial arts to several would-be field commanders chosen by Baraggan himself and Nobunaga had been appointed to lead several thousand souls through basic line drills meant to encourage unit cohesion. Wolf the Quarrelsome had been tasked with rounding up the most dangerous men under Baraggan's command and working them up into a bloodthirsty berserker frenzy that would, in theory, overwhelm some of the Kushanāda like a pack of wild dogs taking down a deer as Äs Nödt supervised the forging of various weapons that would soon be distributed.

Nnoitra Gilga wasn't much of a leader, but like Nobunaga he had been tasked with teaching a separate group how to fight, drawing upon his years of experience as an Espada to inspire and instruct them.

Linndal had been dispatched to keep him from killing his students, naturally.

Erzsébet, of course, was taking another bloody bath.

All in all, things were proceeding as planned and soon freedom would be theirs.

Or, to be more precise, freedom would be _his_.

"Once the fighting starts, we'll only have a few hours before it comes to an end," Cain was saying beside him, "Four, if we're lucky."

"More than that," Kokutō assured him. "Baraggan won't die easily and neither will he simply give up no matter how futile things look; he'll keep the guardians busy for a long while. The Kushanāda operate as a sort of hive mind; once the uprising begins, they will all begin to move in to the center of the fighting to find and put down the leader or leaders of the revolt. The gate will be lightly defended with one, two, maybe as many as three of the guardians, but they will be easy prey for us."

"And then we find out if your insane theory about pushing the gates open will work or not…"

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Kokutō told The Old One icily.

"I find your psychotic optimism disturbing," Cain countered.

"You'll see soon enough," Kokutō said. "You and everyone else."

They were standing on the cusp of a dream, _the_ dream, and Kokutō could already taste victory.

_ His_ victory.

* * *

"My head is _killing_ me…"

Ashido Kanō cast a sideways glance at his captain who was busy massaging the sides of his skull and looking away from the dying rays of sunlight that were filtering down across the top of Sōkyoku Hill and the senkaimon as he complained about his hangover.

"I warned you not to drink so much," Ashido pointed out.

"I picked you to be my lieutenant, not my mother," Renji reminded him. "It was a party; drinking is standard operating procedure."

"Next time, try drinking a little less."

"Next time, I'll drink _more_ just to spite you," the captain growled. "Anyway, who's on deck next?"

"Group six, step forward!" Ashido called out, watching as a group of five shinigami stepped out of the waiting crowd. "Okay, gentlemen, your assignment for All Hollow's Eve is a little town called Numazu on the eastern seaboard of Japan. Be careful and be mindful of your training and everyone will come home safely. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" called out the five in perfect sync as they stepped up to the senkaimon, a hell butterfly waiting for each of them.

"And _try_ not to break anything this year," Renji reminded them. "We had too many complaints last year about unnecessary destruction in the human world."

"I seem to remember something about an officer murdering a vending machine…" Ashido said dryly, earning a scowl from his superior and a brief round of chuckling from the gathered shinigami.

"Funny," said Renji sarcastically. "When did _you_ develop a sense of humor?"

"I found it to be a necessary evil if I'm to be working with you," said Ashido coolly. "Rukia's advice."

"Of course it is…" sighed Captain Abarai. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ashido had no answer for him and the captain turned back to address the waiting members of group six.

"Is everyone clear on their assignment?" asked Renji. "No mindlessly blowing things up, no getting reckless and trying to show off to each other, and most importantly, no dying; just do your job the way you were trained and survive until All Hollow's Eve is over."

"Yes, Sir!" called the shinigami again as the gates of the senkaimon opened for them.

"Good luck, gentlemen," Ashido told them as they disappeared through the doorway. He marked their group number off the list on his clipboard, quickly scanning through the names of the next group.

"Come on, let's get this show on the road," Renji said. "There are seven other divisions waiting to use the senkaimon if we ever get done here, Ashido."

"Right… Group seven, step forward!"

* * *

It was late in the evening before Squad 13 was able to make use of the senkaimon to deploy their squads, but that was pretty standard; all the squads deployed in numerical order, save for Squad 1, who always went last. On the upside, the long wait to use the senkaimon meant that most people should have plenty of time to get over their hangovers.

"Let's see," Captain Ushii began, checking his list. "Next up is Sarami City and group two; if that's you, step forward now."

A group of eight shinigami stepped forward obediently as Anrak nodded in approval, checking them off the list as he waved for eight hell butterflies to come over.

"Sarami City is an unusually active place given it's location," Neliel explained to the eight soul reapers standing at the senkaimon. "It's well outside the radius of the _jūreichi_, but it has frequent spikes in hollow activity and we have yet to understand why. Because of this, you are to operate in pairs; no one goes anywhere alone at any time, _no exceptions_, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" called the group.

"I don't want anyone to feel slighted by being forced to work with a partner so let me remind everyone that this is _exactly_ what we did for Sarami City last year," Anrak said. "All things considered, expect this to be the case every year until further notice."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Last year, we were the only Squad other than Squad 1 to not have a single casualty among our ranks," Neliel added. "I expect to have that honor again this year, so I want everyone to be extra careful out there tonight."

"Yes, Ma'am!" came the reply as the senkaimon opened. The eight shinigami stepped through into the _Dangai _precipice world and the doorway slid shut behind them.

"Group three gets a little city called Orlando; step right up and get your Hell butterflies while the lieutenant fills you in…"

* * *

Sometimes it was the smallest of things led to the biggest opportunities.

This fact had been an essential part of Daniel Neal's life for as long as he could remember; as a child, he had been eager to take anything he could get his hands on for the prospect of trading upward for something better. As a young man, he'd taken to pick-pocketing as a way to keep himself afloat financially and he'd ruined more than a few lives by using their stolen credit cards and cash to live large.

He'd known that his crimes were exactly victimless, but he had always thought them to be relatively safe…at least until he picked the wrong pocket, got caught, and got his brains blown out.

A bang, a bright light, a flash of pain that didn't even last a quarter-second later, he found himself falling down into the unforgiving nightmare that was Hell.

He'd never even believed the place _existed_ until he suddenly wound up as a permanent guest.

Danny had _tried_ to be a good prisoner, he really had; he avoided the Kushanāda, stayed out of fights, didn't bother anyone, but he quickly lost interest in being behaving when he realized that the great guardian beasts simply didn't give a damn how well you behaved.

But fortunately for him, someone else _did_ give a damn.

"You're a good kid, Danny; I can see that," Kokutō had told him. "You had an unfair hand dealt to you, just like I did. The Kushanāda won't pardon you and I think you're smart enough to see that, but there is another way out…"

"Tell me!" Danny had pleaded eagerly. "I'll do anything to get out of this place!"

"Not so loud, my friend," Kokutō had shushed him. "I have a plan and while most of the major pieces are ready to go, I still have a couple of small jobs that need to be done. How about it, Danny? You help me with one of these small jobs and I'll take you with us."

And now Danny was sitting at the 'processing area' near the gate where new souls entered Hell; some dragged through the gate by the Kushanāda guarding it while others occasionally came falling from the sky as Danny had done.

His job here, his only job, was to question each new soul about the last time and date they remember; he didn't know all the grand details of Kokutō's plan, but he didn't need to; all he needed to know was that the ball had to get rolling just a few minutes before Halloween.

All he had to do was alert Kokutō when the time was right and they would escape this place forever.

The sound of terrified screaming caused Danny to look up, watching as a new arrival, a business man if the expensive-looking suit he was wearing was any indication, came hurtling down towards the slightly-acidic pit that greeted all newcomers. He took a couple of steps backwards away from the edge of the pit as the soul crashed into it, splashing acidic water everywhere, including a few drops onto Danny's ragged and torn red shirt. The screams of the new arrival only intensified as the water burned his eyes, but it wasn't permanent even if it was excruciatingly-painful. He splashed about blindly, trying to find a way out.

"Over here," Danny called. "Swim towards my voice and I'll pull you out."

The blinded man began slowly swimming towards him and the edge of the pit, reaching his hand out for someone and something to grab onto. Danny reached in and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the burning water and onto dry land.

"Thank you," the man gasped. "Oh God, _thank you!_"

"Not a problem," Danny shrugged it off. "By the way, can you tell me what the date is?"

"I…I _can't_," the man stuttered. "I can't see a thing-"

"Your sight will come back soon enough," Danny explained. "It happens to all of us. Just tell me the last time you remember seeing."

"The last thing I remember before everything went black and I found myself falling, it was 11:27..."

"AM or PM?" Danny pressed. "And what was the day?"

"PM, Wednesday," the man said. "Why-"

"The _date_, what was the date?" Danny asked excitedly.

"October 30, but-" the man began, only to be cut off by Danny laughing.

"It's here! The time is _finally_ here!' he said, shoving the man back into the acidic water. He ignored the renewed screams as he sprinted off to find Kokutō.

It was time to get the party started.

It was time to say goodbye to this damnedable pit forever.

* * *

It was nearly midnight an the start of All Hollow's Eve, but there was one last unit to be deployed; Squad 1 Group 1, led by Head Captain Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto himself. There were fifteen young soul reapers gathered around Yamamoto as Shunsui Kyōraku arrived to see them off.

"Edo is a massive city," Yamamoto was explaining to his charges as Shunsui approached. "It is far larger than anything you can imagine. Do not allow yourself to get distracted by its size or its lights; we go to the world of the living for one reason and one reason alone: to kill hollows!"

"Tokyo, Yama-jii," Shunsui corrected with a grin. "It hasn't been called Edo for a long time now."

"Foolish child, it will _always_ be Edo," said Yamamoto firmly. "I don't care what the humans decide to call it, it remains Edo."

"I really hope I'm not as obstinate as you when I reach your age," Shunsui chuckled with an easy-going grin.

"If you don't show a little more respect, Shunsui, you will never need worry about it."

"Come on, Yama-jii; no need to be so touchy. You know I'm just joking," calmed Shunsui.

"All Hollow's Eve is _not_ a time for joking," said Yamamoto. "I taught you better than that."

"It's not technically All Hollow's Eve for a few more minutes…"

"I expect each of you to take tonight more seriously than Captain Kyōraku here," Yamamoto said to his group, ignoring Shunsui's observation. "All Hollow's Eve is _never_ a joking matter; do not let the mindless frivolities of the other night blind you to that single immutable fact."

"Yes, Sir!" acknowledged the fifteen hand-selected shinigami.

"This is not a vacation. This is not a sight-seeing tour. This is not a night on the town," Yamamoto began gravely. "This is the busiest night of the year for the Gotei 13 and it is also one of the deadliest. I expect that the other squads will suffer unfortunate casualties tonight, but I expect that Squad 1 will _not_. We have not lost a man on All Hollow's Eve for over a century now and I do not intend for that to change as long as I am in command; is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good," the aging commander nodded. "I expect nothing less than the best you have to offer tonight. I demand excellence from each and every one of you; those who do not give one hundred percent will spent the next three months undergoing a training regimen the likes of which you cannot even _begin_ to imagine."

"Yes, Sir!" barked the crowd. Yamamoto nodded again and turned to face Shunsui.

"The Seireitei is in your hands until I return, Shunsui. Do not disappoint me," he instructed as the senkaimon opened. Shunsui just chuckled as his commander stepped through the doorway into the Dangai.

"Relax, Yama-jii," he said. "It's just one night; what could possibly go wrong?"


	7. Escape

**Escape**

"It's a thing of beauty, isn't it?"

Kokutō grinned as he waited for an answer to his query, watching the chaos play out down below from his perch on a forsaken cliff. As far as they eye could see, _millions_ of misguided souls threw themselves at the massive skull-faced Kushanāda in an attempt to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. He watched as one of the great beasts fell, succumbing to the thousands of blades, stones, and bare fists that were relentlessly pummeling it. Even as it took its last breath, a replacement guardian burst forth from a nearby molten pit, showering dozens of the rebels with lava that burned away their flesh and fried their bones.

"Impressive," Cain answered evenly, "but it won't take long for it to end."

"Oh, I think it'll take a bit longer than you expect," Kokutō said. "The hopeless masses believe that they _finally _have hope now in the form of Baraggan and that stupid, futile belief will keep them fighting well past the point of good sense."

As if emphasizing his point, the rebels turned and piled on the newly-born guardian with all their fury as it finished crawling out of the magma, ignoring the fact that a new one would take its place if it fell, and another one after _that_ one fell… It would repeat _ad infinitum_ if allowed; there was no permanent way to stop the Kushanāda.

But neither the rebels or King Baraggan himself were willing to accept that fact just yet.

It hadn't taken long for the violence to erupt all over Hell once the call had gone out; so many countless millions of souls were so bitter and angry that they had been all too eager to take up arms against their jailors. When the call had reached Kokutō and he had relayed the news to Baraggan, the self-proclaimed God-King had picked himself up from his throne and exited his cave, boldly declaring to his loyal followers waiting outside that it was time.

And that was all it had taken.

News spread quickly and now, now Kokutō could begin to appreciate the fruits of his labor.

It was _magnificent._

"How long can we afford to wait?" Cain asked. "If we spent too much time appreciating your handiwork, we'll miss our window."

"I think we have a few hours at least…" Kokutō mused. "We want to ensure that the Kushanāda are completely focused on putting down Baraggan and the rebellion instead of trivial details like guarding the gates."

"The others are near the gate waiting, I'm guessing?"

"Most are; hiding in caves and in shadows, keeping an eye on the guardians posted there as they wait for me, but a few…" Kokutō said, raising an arm and pointing down on the battlefield at an ax-wielding berserker who was savagely attacking one of the massive Hell beasts by his lonesome, "…just couldn't help themselves, apparently."

"Maniac," said Cain, shaking his head as Wolf the Quarrelsome cleaved the Kushanāda's bony face in two, causing a bloody spray that covered him head to toe.

"True, but you can see why I chose him to join us, can't you?"

"Surely the others have better sense than to get caught up in this carnage…"

"Cao Cao is taking a more strategic role to ensure that the battle lasts for a long while…" Kokutō said, chuckling as Wolf recklessly charged at another Kushanāda, bowling over nearly a dozen unfortunate rebels who got between him and his prey. "I believe Nobunaga is taking a more front-line leadership role somewhere as well."

"Is that wise?" grunted Cain. "How will they know when it's time for us to go?"

"That would be my job," answered another voice and The Old One turned to face the short man sitting behind them, taking in his messy black hair and the bony, wolf-looking muzzle on his forehead.

"Aren't you going to come appreciate the view with us, Linn?" asked Kokutō conversationally. "It really is spectacular….the culmination of years of hard work and planning… It's like a piece of fine art."

"I'm fine right where I am," said Linndal Cuchullan from his seat on a rock further back from the cliff's edge. "Just tell me when and I'll sound the call."

"Cain, meet Linn, the former _septima_ Espada in Aizen's grand army until he was…_dismissed_ from service," said Kokutō without turning around.

"Dismissed?" laughed Linn humorlessly. "I was falsely accused of treason and _executed_."

"A tragedy, that…" Kokutō said, "but today you get to have the last laugh over Aizen. Today, Linn, you will become a free man."

"And just how are you going to let everyone know when it's time to go?" asked Cain dubiously.

"They called me the 'Mad Hound' back in Hueco Mundo," Linn said. "Lot of reasons for that, but the only one that matters is my howl."

"You're going to _howl?_" asked Cain. "And you really think they'll hear you over the sounds of battle down there?"

"You'll see, laddy, you'll see," answered the Irishman with an insufferable smirk.

"Yes, you'll see," agreed Kokutō, chuckling. "But later; for now, let's just sit back and enjoy the show…"

* * *

It had taken some time, but Captain Sui-Feng had _finally_ managed to drill it into her lieutenant's head that she didn't want to see him in the office before 5:30 at the very earliest, even if she personally came in at five sharp every morning. That all too brief period in the pre-dawn hours was _her_ time, damn it, and hers alone; she did not want to share it with another person, did not want to see another soul, and damn sure didn't want to speak to anyone.

The petite captain allowed herself a smug grin as she walked to the office, savoring the early-morning silence and the light fog that was hugging the ground. There was a certain beauty in the serenity of it all and that more than anything else was why she wanted to be alone in the mornings; no one, not even Lady Yoruichi, appreciated just how utterly _perfect_ the last few minutes before dawn truly were.

And today, more than any other day of the year, it was even _more_ perfect.

The Seireitei was virtually empty, with well over half the Soul Reapers having been sent out to the world of the living for All Hollow's Eve, and that meant the entire city was perfectly, blissfully silent. In just over twenty-six hours now, at seven sharp on the morning of November first, All Hollow's Eve would come to an end and with it the wonderful peace that she was able to enjoy currently.

She dreaded that loss but for today and tomorrow morning both, she certainly intended to enjoy it to the best of her ability.

Sui-Feng reached the office door and retrieved the paper waiting on the ground before pulling out her key, inserting it in the lock and turning it, listening for the faint sound of the door unlocking. There was an almost-imperceptible '_click_' and Sui-Feng pulled the key back out and pocketed it before sliding the door open.

And then she gritted her teeth and made a tight fist, growling in irritation as her good mood shattered around her like fine crystal meeting a sledgehammer.

The office was dark, nearly pitch black with all the lights out, but on her desk, _her_ _desk_, was a brightly-lit jack-o'-lantern facing the door.

The door had been locked and no one save for herself and the lieutenant had a key, though she knew full well that keys made little different to anyone who was a trained lock pick; after all, lock picking was a required skill for everyone in Squad 2 and anyone who had ever served in its ranks knew it well.

As if that little sliver of knowledge wasn't enough to help her finger a suspect, the jack-o'-lantern itself was by far the biggest clue.

The candle inside the pumpkin danced about wildly, the flickering light illuminating the meticulously-carved image in the vegetable, an image that was a rather unusual choice to decorate a pumpkin with, but the chosen image spoke volumes about its creator.

It was a mosquito, hand-carved with all the skill and grace of a master surgeon.

Or a master assassin.

"God damn that harpy," hissed Sui-Feng as she reached off to her right and hit the light switch for the room.

Now more than ever she was glad that she had instructed Tatter _not_ to come in early; already she could hear his laughter and the thought served only make her blood boil hotter, her cheeks turning a dangerous shade of red.

She swiftly stalked over to her desk, blew the candle out as she sat her paper down, and snatched the pumpkin up, intent on hurling the thing into the nearest garbage pit _immediately_, before anyone could see it and make a comment. It took only ten flash steps to reach the nearest garbage pit and Sui-Feng hefted the offending vegetable above her head and hurled it into the smelly abyss with all of her might. She couldn't quite see the bottom given that the sun hadn't risen yet, but she could easily hear the satisfying sound of the pumpkin splattering against something solid and it brought a malicious grin to her face.

"If only I could take care of that silver-haired _bitch_ so easily…" she muttered, imagining her hands around the other woman's throat.

Well, maybe one day… She was bound to cross the line sooner or later and then no one would bat an eye when Sui-Feng took her out permanently.

The malicious grin devolved into something that was pure evil at the thought.

The pumpkin disposed of, Sui-Feng hurried back to the office to try and salvage what was left of the morning; a little tea, reading the paper in peace and quiet as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon and began filtering through the window…

Yes, that would certainly bring her good mood back from the dead.

She re-entered the office and shut the door behind her, heading straight to the counter in the corner to put on a pot of tea.

It would be a few minutes before her tea was ready, so she made her way over to her desk, pulled out her chair, picked up her paper, and sat down…and promptly realized there was something in her seat.

Rage boiling again, she dropped the paper and plunged a hand downward, underneath her rear to grab the offending object. She pulled the unwelcome object out and examined it, gritting her teeth so hard she almost swore she could hear them cracking.

It was a calling card, letting her know just who had been in her office if there were still any lingering doubts.

Sui-Feng cursed and hurled the rubber spider across the room, watching it smack against the wall and fall to the floor behind Tatter's desk. She clenched and unclenched her fists as she breathed in and out angrily, trying to reign in her temper.

Hatred, thy name was Haname Shiba.

* * *

It was a rare sight to see the Grand Mess so empty and peaceful; of the nearly one thousand seats available, less than a quarter of them were occupied. The noise level, which was traditionally a roar that required a trained ear to maintain a conversation with the person sitting across from you, was but a quiet whisper today. It was peaceful, but also somewhat eerie all at the same time; to see the massive commissary looking so deserted at lunch time was utterly surreal. In some ways, the sight almost felt like an omen, but Captain Ushii pushed the ridiculous notion out of his head just as quickly as it had appeared.

_ I don't mind the emptiness_, admitted Kagi as Anrak ate his meal slowly. _I hate it when it's crowded. So damn loud most of the time that I can't even hear myself think, much less speak._

"You say that as if it's a bad thing…" said Anrak dryly. "Besides, I thought you liked excitement and crowds."

_ In battle. For mindless socializing and chatter? Not so much. _

Anrak just shook his head before taking another bite of rice, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as he watched his lieutenant meander over to the table and sit down across from him with a broad grin.

"We're about to have some company soon," she told him, pausing to look at her meal as she considered where to start. "Renji was in line behind me, with Takk and Satsu behind him. Saw Jean and Rukia further back there, too."

_ Oh, god damn it,_ hissed Kagi_. There goes my peace and quiet._

"I saw Rangiku earlier, too, but I don't know where she-" Neliel tried to add, only to be cut off by the strawberry-blonde in question sitting down beside her.

"Hi, guys!" sang the busty woman cheerfully. "Isn't this great? You don't have to fight for a seat today!"

"Like _you've_ ever had trouble finding a seat," scoffed Anrak. "You just bat those eyelashes of yours and entire tables clear out as every single male eagerly offers you his chair, a foot rub, and their undying devotion."

"You should know, Annie; after all, you used to be one of those guys," teased Rangiku. "You're not as quick to do favors for a girl now that you're married."

"You mean I'm not as easy to _con_," corrected the captain wryly. "There's a difference."

"Oh, I find you pretty easy to con…" said Neliel in-between bites of her lunch. "Sometimes _too_ easy."

"Thanks, _koibito_," replied the captain sarcastically as Renji came over and joined them.

"You're welcome," said Renji with a teasing grin. "But don't call me sweetheart, sweetheart."

"Not _you_, you ass," said Anrak sourly as the two women giggled. "Shouldn't you be busy repairing your division's mess hall? I heard about what happened at your party."

"That wasn't my fault!" Renji exclaimed, face turning as red as his hair.

"Oh, please, Renji; you would have burnt the entire building down if my captain hadn't been there trying to drag me back to Division 10," said Rangiku, resting her elbow on the table and lazily leaning against it. "Really, what in the world possessed you to try fire breathing like that?"

"Alcohol, candles, and having a tiny brain," quipped Anrak in place of the other captain. "Terrible combination."

"On the plus side," Neliel began with a grin, "I heard yours was the _hottest_ party in the entire Seireitei."

"Can't a guy catch a break?" growled Renji. "So I made one tiny mistake; let it go!"

"I heard Ashido had to knock you out just to keep you from trying it a second time…" said Anrak.

"Completely true!" said Rangiku. "I saw it all. Pretty funny, if you ask me."

"What was funny?" asked Satsu as he and his brother sat down beside their captain. "Did we miss something?"

"Your genius captain setting fire to the mess hall the other night," Anrak explained.

"No, we saw that pretty clearly," Satsu said, nodding earnestly. "It was _awesome_; you should totally do that again sometime, Captain!"

Renji just groaned and pushed his tray out of the way before putting his forehead on the table to hide his face. "I hate all of you right now," was his muffled reply.

"It made the party memorable, at least," Takk offered. "First time you tried to burn down the mess hall _and_ the first time Don Juan Dumbass over here didn't get the crap punched out of him by a woman."

"Actually, I saw someone slap him while you were away getting some sake," Rangiku said. "So only one first, not two."

"Damn it, I was hoping nobody saw that," sighed Satsu dejectedly.

"Even if I hadn't seen it, I'd definitely have _heard_ it," Rangiku continued. "Surprised she didn't leave a handprint on there with as hard as she popped you. _I_ did last time I had to smack you."

"I don't believe I saw that one, either…" Takk mused. "Do it again, please."

"Please _don't_," objected his twin. "Can't we all go back to abusing the captain?"

"I'm right _here_, you know…" growled Renji, finally sitting back up. "You're _really_ going to try and direct people to harass your captain?"

"C'mon now, ain't no call ta be harassin' nobody," drawled Jean Rawlings as he pulled up a seat on the other side of Anrak. "We all friends, right? Ain't no reason ta be pickin' on each other."

"It's all in good fun, Jean," Neliel explained. "No one really means anything by it."

"Well, I jes don't have it in me to be a'pickin' on other people, even if'n it be in jest. Guess I'm jes weird like that. Don't mean to be ruinin' things for y'all," apologized the Cajun.

"You're not ruining anything," Satsu said. "You're saving me from them."

"And me," added Renji.

"Like _you've_ never picked on any of us before," snorted Anrak.

"That was then; this is now," said Renji smoothly.

"How very convenient…" said Anrak dryly. "Sounds like you're saying it's okay for _you_ to give others grief, but it's not okay them to return the favor."

"That's _exactly_ what I'm saying," answered the tattooed man smugly. "Seems pretty fair to me."

"Your definition of fair is pretty warped; you learn it from Captain Kuchiki?"

"Hey now, my Cap'n is a good fella," said Jean, jumping in. "Why you gotta drag him into this?"

"Because he has no sense of humor?" guessed Rangiku.

"…I don' really think I can be argue'n wit that," said Jean with a shrug. "Carry on, then."

"You guys are terrible," giggled Neliel, "but I love you all, anyway."

"Not _that_ kind of love, before you get the wrong idea," Takk told his brother. "Don't want Captain Ushii to have to kill you just yet."

"Yeah, laugh it up, guys," said Satsu as the table shared a good chuckle. "We'll see who's laughing when I land someone _hot_, like that blonde we saw last Halloween."

"What blonde?" asked Renji as Neliel stood up briefly to wave to Ichigo and Rukia, inviting them over to the table. "I don't remember hearing about this."

"Well, it was weird beca-" Satsu began, only to have his brother grab him roughly and clamp a hand over his mouth.

"It was nothing!" exclaimed Takk quickly. "Just some random girl, nothing more; no need to go into details over something so trivial, right?"

"Right…" said Renji suspiciously. "You guys are acting even weirder than normal over this; should I be concerned?"

"Concerned over what?" asked Ichigo Kurosaki as he joined the group, Rukia Kuchiki alongside him. "What did they do now?"

"Nothing!" Takk declared, still keeping a hand clasped over his brother's big mouth. "Captain Abarai, on the other hand, tried to burn down the mess hall the other night."

"Renji did _what_ now?" asked Ichigo, turning his attention over to the redhead in question who simply groaned and put his head back on the table as Rukia began to mock him.

Anrak chuckled as he resumed eating his lunch, listening to Ichigo, Renji, and Rukia banter back and forth with the others. The Grand Mess had suddenly become a lot louder than it had been earlier, but he didn't mind in the slightest; this was happiness, pure enjoyment, and he wished he could spend more peaceful days relaxing with his friends like this

Still, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, something other than Kagi for a change, something that filled him with a nameless sense of dread…

He briefly wondered if he should tell someone, if he should tell his friends or his wife, or perhaps even go straight to Shunsui, but what was there to tell? That he simply had a bad feeling? It was All Hollow's Eve; _everyone_ probably had a small hint of dread resting in the pit of their stomach, but that's all it was; a baseless feeling and nothing more. Bad feelings without some kind of evidence to support them, no matter how trivial, were usually just empty worries and he could not, _would not_, let senseless paranoia upset him or his friends.

_ The calm before the storm_, Kagi said softly. _I feel it, too._

_** But there's no justifiable reason for it! What are we supposed to do?**_

_ The only thing we can; we wait._

* * *

As much as Kokutō would have enjoyed watching the carnage down below continue until it finally reached its inevitable and bloody end, he could not delay any longer if he wanted to escape Hell. The tide had begun to turn against the rebels, as he knew it would, and many were on the run now as the titanic Kushanāda chased them down relentlessly.

On the far side of the pit, dozens of Kushanāda had gathered around a single target who was adamantly refusing to give up, fighting to his last breath even as more and more guardians surrounded him.

Alas, poor King Baraggan; his perceived kingdom was collapsing all around him and still he fought for control…

The former ruler of Hueco Mundo had released his zanpaktou some time ago, taking on a skeletal form that reminded Kokutō of the classical portrayals of Death himself, the Grim Reaper. His massive ax was his lone weapon against the approaching Hell beasts; despite the dark cloud that surrounded Baraggan, his _respira_, the Kushanāda remained unfazed by the prospect of reaching for him.

The "breath of death" caused rapid aging to the massive hands that dared grab at the king, with skin decaying and bones disintegrating quickly, and regardless of the fact that the condition would spread to their entire body, the Kushanāda kept coming.

And they would keep coming, relentlessly, for as long as it took to destroy the so-called King of Hueco Mundo.

Another Kushanāda fell to Baraggan's _respira_, but a replacement immediately erupted from the nearest molten pit and with an ear-splitting roar, it headed over to join the battle against the arrancar.

Many of the lesser souls in Hell had finally given up and were fleeing for safety, though a few die-hard believers continued fighting down to the last man, just like their beloved leader. With Baraggan's strength, he could keep the Kushanāda busy for a few more hours, but enough was enough.

"Sound the call, Linn," Kokutō instructed, stepping away from the cliff's edge. "It's time."

"Finally…" muttered the arrancar as he stood from his seat and stepped forward. He spared a quick glance back at Kokutō and Cain, "You might want to cover your ears."

Kokutō didn't need to be told and Cain ignored the advice entirely. With a shrug, Linn turned back to face the battle waging down below and took a deep breath before letting loose a long, sorrowful-sounding wail that reverberated across the great pit. Even with his fingers in his ears, it wasn't quite enough when standing this close to the Mad Hound as Kokutō winced, falling to a knee underneath the pain in his skull.

Combatants all across the pit ceased their battle momentarily, hands going to cover their ears as the howl finally began to wind down. Thousands had been momentarily stunned by the deafening noise, including the great Kushanāda, and Baraggan had seized the opportunity by ignoring the pain in favor of pressing the attack against his foes.

Three more Kushanāda fell before the howl came to an end and while it still wasn't enough to help Baraggan win, it would be enough to keep him as number one on the guardian's shitlist.

All according to plan.

Kokutō pushed himself back up and noticed that Linndal was on his knees, clutching his skull as blood could be seen pouring from his ears. The togabito spared a quick glance over at Cain, only to see that The Old One seemed completely unharmed by the sonic blast.

"The fuck?" Linn was saying. "My attack has never hurt me before…"

"Ignore it for now," Kokutō said, grabbing Linn's right arm and hoisting him back to a standing position. "We need to get going and meet up with the others. It's time to open the gates."

"Bloody hell, that _hurt_…" Linn continued to gripe as Kokutō dragged him towards the rendezvous point. "Why didn't anyone ever _tell_ me how much it hurt?"

The fallen Espada finally shook off his disorientation and began running on his own, keeping pace with Kokutō and Cain as they sprinted through fields of blood and fire, cutting through a handful of battles that were still being waged against the Kushanāda. Linn ducked and slid underneath a swat from a massive hand as Kokutō simply shoved one of the rebels into the Kushanāda's crushing grasp. Cain simply plowed through the crowd, knocking rebels away if they were lucky and pushing them forward and stepping on top of them if they weren't.

There was no place for civility in Hell, least of all now.

The trio slid down a steep embankment, hitting the ground and following an ancient footpath that lead to the rendezvous, a shadowy alcove at the base of one of the mountains near the massive gates.

"You're late," Erzsébet greeted them with disdain as they arrived. "I was about to order the men to begin without you."

"Just _try_ and give me an order, bitch…" growled Wolf the Quarrelsome, tightening his grip on his ax.

"Save it!" snarled Kokutō. "You can kill each other later but _right now_, we have a job to do."

He pushed his way through the crowd of souls to get a better view of the gate and a quick count of how many guardians remained stationed around it.

"Only two…" Cain mumbled. "So far, so good."

"Only two…_and they're both mine!_" roared Wolf, charging out of the alcove with reckless abandon, a mad grin stretched across his rugged face.

"Fool!" spat Nobunaga. "We need-"

"It's fine," Kokutō interrupted him. "He can handle those two while we go for the gates. Let's move, people!"

Nearly two hundred souls, clad in rags and dirty from head to toe, burst forth from the shadows behind, sprinting past the Kushanāda and Wolf and swarming the gargantuan gates. The top of the gate was chained shut, but the chain wasn't quite short enough to keep the door from opening entirely; it would only permit them to open it by a hair, but that single crack was all they needed.

"Push!" commanded Kokutō as the small army positioned itself against the gates, half on the left side, half on the right, their shoulders firm against the uncomfortably-warm metal as they dug their feet into the ground and began to heave with all their might.

The gate didn't move and the second Kushanāda turned away from Wolf to go deal with the other prisoners.

"Don't turn your back on me!" bellowed the berserker, taking a flying leap that landed him on the lower back of the massive beast. He plunged his battle ax into the flesh beside the guardian's spine and began to run up the back, dragging the ax along behind him, carving flesh and bone as he went. The Kushanāda gave a great roar of pain as it collapsed just short of reaching the crew at the gate and Wolf yanked his ax free, shouldering it for a moment as he turned back to face the other Kushanāda.

"Just you and me now," he said with a grin. "_Show me what you've got!_"

The Irishman charged into battle once more as the rest of the group struggled to get the massive gate to move even an inch.

"It's too heavy!" someone cried. "We can't do it!"

"Don't give up, damn you!" demanded Kokutō. "Other Kushanāda will be here shortly and if you don't want to face their wrath, _push_!"

For himself, Kokutō thought that if he pressed himself against the gate any harder, his shoulder would break and render him useless, but still he kept pushing; he could not, _would not_, spend another minute in this pit!

From behind, he heard the death wail of another Kushanāda and the laugher of Wolf, followed by the Irishman's gruff voice.

"Come on, then!" he declared loudly. "I'll kill the lot of you!"

Kokutō spared a quick glance backwards to see that a half dozen Kushanāda were advancing towards them now, with only Wolf to stand in their way. Time was drawing short and the only thing still in their favor was that the massive beasts moved relatively slow.

Not slow enough, however.

"God damn you fools, _push!_" roared Kokutō. A loud collective grunt could be heard as the group redoubled their efforts and at last they were rewarded with the sound of the massive hinges on the gate groaning.

"Keep it up!" shouted Kokutō.

Encouraged by the sound of the creaking of the hinges and the sight of the massive door finally moving inch by inch, the group dug their heels into the dirt and pushed harder. Many in the crowd could be heard yelling from the strain as they taxed every muscle in their body to make the gate move by even the tiniest fraction.

Momentum was on their side now and the gate became somewhat easier to push, inch by inch, foot by foot, as the crowd huffed and heaved. Kokutō took another look behind them, trying to judge how much time they had before the Kushanāda would be upon them.

Not much.

"Wolf!" he cried. "Get your ass over here and help us!"

The berserker hesitated, looking from the gate to the approaching Hell beasts and back again.

"Damn it," he growled before charging over to join his comrades, slamming his shoulder against the gate with all of his considerable might.

The giant doors creaked open finally, giving the prisoners their first taste of air from the world of the living. The scent, the cool, refreezing scent that was mercifully-free of any trace of sulfur, reinvigorated them as they bucked down.

"Just…a little….farther…" Kokutō forced out through gritted teeth. He didn't dare turn around to see how close the Kushanāda were; he didn't want to know, couldn't afford to be distracted when they were _so close_…

After what seemed like an eternity, the massive gate swung open by several meters before coming to a halt, held firmly in place by the great chains up top. The opening was only a few meters across, but it was just big enough as the group of prisoners began to scramble for it at all costs.

Kokutō and the stronger warriors were the first through, shoving the weaklings of the bunch out of the way and crushing others underfoot as they all vied for the right to be the first man out.

Somehow, Rondare Onsende was that man.

"Free, free!" he cackled madly as he danced about in the afternoon sky, a bustling, unknown city far below. "We did it! We did it! Yes, we did, yes, we did! We're free_, free!_"

Kokutō was the next one out, crawling over his comrades madly to reach the outside world. He squinted his eyes against the unfamiliar glare of the bright sun hanging in the beautifully-blue sky, but he grinned against the pain.

"I'm free…" he breathed slowly.

More and more of the others were making their way out through the small opening now and Kokutō remembered that the guardians were still hot on their tails.

"Nnoitra!" he barked. "Open it up!"

"Yeah, yeah; I got it," sneered the arrancar, snapping his fingers as the sky before them began to twist and distort before opening up into an ominous black maw.

"Into the _garganta_, everyone!" Kokutō shouted, ushering them inside hurriedly. "Follow Nnoitra to Hueco Mundo!"

The eager prisoners didn't need to be told twice as they sprinted across the sky from the gate to the _garganta,_ plunging into the darkness without a second thought. Kokutō waited a handful of tense seconds, partially to ensure that his heavy-hitters made it through and partially to enjoy the pleasant warmth of the sun just a little longer…

A roar bellowed out from just the other side of the gate and Kokutō knew he could dawdle no longer. He quickly hopped into the black distortion, turning to take one last look at the world of the living and the gate.

A lone soul was dragging up the rear, running as fast as he could for the garganta. The massive roar sounded again and suddenly the gates were flung open with incredible force, the chains utterly shattered as one of the Kushanāda dove forward, right arm outstretched as it made a desperate grab for the fleeing prisoner.

The last person out the door was only a few feet away from the garganta when the hand of the Kushanāda snatched him up, clutching him so tightly that Kokutō could literally hear bones breaking underneath the pressure.

The kid in the ragged red shirt, what was his name? David? Darby? Dean? Whatever his name was, he looked at Kokutō pleadingly.

"Help me, Kokutō!" he cried. "_Please! _You promised we'd all leave together!"

Kokutō remained inside the garganta as the distortion began to close, a cold and unsympathetic grin on his face.

"Kokutō!" screamed the other man desperately as the Kushanāda crushed him mercilessly.

As the garganta finally closed, the last sound Kokutō heard was the young man's screaming as it devolved into an unintelligible gurgling noise. Still grinning, he turned and began to walk into the darkness, following the path of crystalline reishi that would lead him to Hueco Mundo and from there, the Soul Society.

Nothing could stop them now.


	8. Invasion

**Invasion**

All Hollow's Eve was an interesting day for those in charge of keeping an eye on the monitor stations that kept a constant vigil on the various cities in the world of the living; all day long, red dots representing hollows would appear on the radar screens only to be mobbed by green dots representing soul reapers. Most of the time, the red dots would quickly vanish but sometimes, just sometimes, a green dot would blink out of existence instead.

The system couldn't distinguish between the rank and file soul reapers, though, and while it was impossible to know exactly who the casualties were, the monitor team always knew the total number of fatalities long before anyone else. Since most cities were under the guard of a single division, it was at least easy enough to tally up the losses for each squad.

So far, Squads 1, 2, 5, 7, and 13 were the only ones to not have a single casualty.

A green dot blipped out of existence on the screen monitoring Numazu City and Rin Tsubokura dutifully marked the first casualty of the evening for Squad 5, silently hoping that it would also be their last loss. Another dot blinked out on a separate screen, this one for Osaka, and he marked down a loss for Squad 7 as well.

There were a handful of others in the dimly-lit room with him, all keeping a close eye on the various monitor stations and making notes of losses when they occurred. The entire system was largely automated and could almost run itself, but it was still standard procedure to have several technicians on duty to oversee everything and today was, all in all, pretty standard.

Or at least, that's what Rin had been thinking right up until and system went berserk, alarm klaxons blaring loudly as the central screen, the largest monitor in the room, brought up an overview of some city called Ravendale.

"Oh my God…" breathed Rin, swallowing hard as every technician in the room stood up from their seats and stared at the screen in shock, some running about in outfight panic.

"What…what the hell _is_ that?" asked someone else, pointing to the massive yellow blob on the screen.

"It's spirit energy," someone else answered. "Unidentified spirit energy… A _lot_ of it!"

"Oh, this is _not_ good," Rin said nervously, wringing his hands. "Call Captain Kyōraku _immediately! _He needs to know about this!"

"What about our captain?" asked another technician.

"He's locked himself in his lab again," was the answer from across the room. "No way to contact him until he decides to come out; said something about a sister for the lieutenant or something."

"Call Captain Kyōraku," Rin said again. "He's in charge until Yamamoto gets back; he'll know what to do!"

"On it!" someone called as Rin began to pace back and forth.

"So much spirit energy…" he muttered. "Where did it all come from? What is it all?"

"Refining the scan… It looks like a cluster of individuals." said one of the other technicians as the group began to focus on the target. Everyone began talking back and forth and Rin lost track of who was saying what as he waited for Kyōraku to arrive.

"But who are they? _What_ are they? Are the hollows?"

"I don't know! We've never seen anything like this!"

"It can't be hollows! Hollows show up as red!"

"Someone shut that damn alarm off!"

"I think I see a couple of red dots in that cluster… No, wait! They're red _triangles!_"

"That's impossible!" sputtered someone else. "Espada-level hollows? They were all wiped out in the war!"

"Well, I'm just saying what I'm seeing and…what the hell? They're all _disappearing!_"

"That much spirit energy _can't_ just disappear!"

"Look at the screen, dumbass! That yellow blob is getting smaller!"

"Do we have anyone in the area? Is someone taking care of it?"

"Negative! We don't have anyone stationed in Ravendale!"

"Then why is the blob getting smaller? It doesn't make any sense!"

The technicians began to bicker among themselves as to what was going on, with theories ranging from hollows, to demons, to a lost tribe of Quincies, to a ghost in the machine, but Rin was far too edgy to participate in the wild speculation; why did something like _this_ have to happen on his shift? This is the sort of thing Akon should have had to deal with!

He covered his face with his hands and groaned as the yellow blob disappeared entirely, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing. A hand reached out and clamped itself down on his shoulder and the timid shinigami gave a frightened yelp as he jumped, eyes bulging out of his head as his heart tried to explode from stress.

"Take it easy, Rin," smiled Shunsui Kyōraku, giving the younger man a calming smile as he squeezed his shoulder gently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what the big emergency is."

"It's…it's…" Rin began, looking for words and failing miserably..

"It's a _blob_!" someone else yelled out.

"A blob?" the captain asked dubiously. "What, did one of Mayuri's experiments get loose again?"

"No, that's not it at all…" Rin said, finally forcing himself to calm down enough to speak. "There was an alarm… The monitor stations picked up something unusual over Ravendale, eastern seaboard of the United States."

"Okay… Define unusual."

"There was a mass of yellow dots, just a _huge_ cluster of them!" Rin said excitedly, his calm already disappearing. "Dozens, maybe _hundreds!_ Unidentifiable spirit energy that just appeared out of nowhere!"

"And where is it now?" asked Shunsui.

"It…kinda…disappeared," Rin said, grimacing as if he expected to be scolded. "We don't know what happened; one minute it was there and the next, it was gone!"

"Could it be another glitch?" asked Shunsui carefully. "I know there have been a lot of weird glitches and false alarms ever since we expanded the surveillance grid to be worldwide; could this just be the latest bug in the system?"

"Probably," someone else answered. "There should be no way for that many individuals to just appear and then disappear so quickly."

"I don't think it was a glitch…" Rin said softly. "We've made a lot of improvements to the system over the past few months and false alarms rarely happen now… And we've _never_ had one like that."

"Rin, we had one a few weeks ago that showed thirty-seven Espada level hollows over Omaha, Nebraska," countered the other technician. "That's a pretty significant error."

"I see…" said Shunsui, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the now-calm radar screen. He weighed the options over in his head carefully before favoring the perpetually-jittery Rin with a reassuring smile.

"Better safe than sorry, right?" he asked. "I'll send a team out to Ravendale to investigate and we'll see what they have to say."

"Should we contact Yamamoto?" asked Rin. "Let him know what's going on?"

"Nah," said Shunsui dismissively. "Let Yama-jii enjoy his field trip for now. We won't bother him unless my team finds something. Sound good to you?"

"Yeah…" said Rin, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Captain Kyōraku!"

The captain gave a simple smile and waved off his thanks as if it were no big deal as he left the monitor room to go assemble his team and Rin felt himself begin to relax. It was, after all, probably nothing to be concerned about and he knew that if there was anything wrong, the captain would only send a team that he was confident in.

No, he decided, there really wasn't anything to worry about.

* * *

It was nice to have Halloween off from slaying hollows for a change and Ichigo Kurosaki refused to let anything, absolutely _anything,_ ruin that joy for him. Ever since he first gained the powers of a soul reaper, he'd been forced to spend Halloween, or All Hollow's Eve as the shinigami called it, battling hungry hollows from dusk til dawn but this year he'd finally been granted a reprieve.

He'd gone as far as to skip school for the day and stay in the Seireitei, which, given that he'd have missed all his classes chasing down hollows anyway, wasn't a big loss, but he was free! No fighting today, no slaying enemies, no crappy costumes and crappy B-movies on television to deal with. Others in the Seireitei may have lamented being left out of the fighting, but the teenager in question was positively _thrilled_ to have the day off.

Well, maybe 'off' was a poor choice of words…

He still had duties to attend to within Squad 9, as per his agreement with Head Captain Yamamoto following the Winter War; the division still lacked a real captain and while Lieutenant Shūhei Hisagi was doing an admirable job as Acting-Captain, he couldn't do it all alone and Ichigo had found himself tasked as his Acting-Lieutenant. He position gave him many of the same responsibilities a full lieutenant had to deal with, save for the annoying meetings that were still part of Hisagi's job.

It wasn't bad, not really; Ichigo didn't mind leading drills and practice sessions with the other soul reapers in Squad 9. In many ways, he felt like he had become the "big brother" to every young shinigami in the division with the way they all looked up to him and treated him with respect. He felt appreciated and he enjoyed being able to help train the subordinates.

Today, though, was his first introduction to the dreaded paperwork.

He'd long heard stories about the extensive paperwork captains and lieutenants had to do, but he had never been forced to deal with it until now. It was late in the afternoon when Hisagi brought him into the office and sat him at a desk, but Ichigo hadn't thought anything about it at first as he leaned his zanpaktou against the wall behind him and settled into the surprisingly-comfortable padded chair.

It was the first time he'd ever really been in the office, and he was busying taking in every last detail of the immaculately-clean room: dark green curtains over the windows, three separate bookcases that were about five feet wide apiece and slightly taller than the teen, a teapot on the counter with a coffeemaker sitting beside it. There was a small couch off to one side with a coffee table, a handful of issues of the Seireitei Bulletin stacked on it neatly, a bulletin board on the far wall with nearly a dozen small notes attached to it…

And then, without warning, Hisagi dropped a stack of forms nearly six inches thick on the desk in front of him.

"Welcome to the machine," said Hisagi. "Up until now, I've been handling your half of the paperwork for you since you have school to deal with in the world of the living, but since you're skipping school today…"

"Holy crap!" Ichigo exclaimed. "I never realized there was this much! Alright, no problem; I'll take half and-"

"No, you'll take it _all_," Hisagi informed him. "This is your share; _my_ half is already finished."

"All of this is _mine?_" asked Ichigo. "Jesus, what is this, a month's worth of forms?"

"A week's worth, actually," answered the other man and Ichigo sweat-dropped.

"All _this_ is just for one week? What the hell _is_ all this?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," the tattooed shinigami explained, pulling up a chair. "And I'm not going to just ditch you here; you need to learn what these forms are and how they're supposed to be filled out."

"Christ, I've had research papers and mid-terms that were less intimidating!" complained the teen.

"Just take it one page at a time," Hisagi told him. He grabbed the topmost sheet and took a glance at it before putting it in front of Ichigo. "This is a request for items from the human world. It's one of the simpler forms to deal with; you just read through it and you can approve or deny individual items or the list as a whole, however as you see fit. If you want to deny the entire thing, simply shred it and toss it in the can. If you want to approve it, or at least part of it, mark which items are approved and denied, and then sign your name at the bottom where it asks for the lieutenant's authorization."

"Simple enough," said Ichigo, reading through the form. He made a few quick strokes with his pen, denying a handful of the more ridiculous and expensive items, like a jukebox for the barracks and designer sunglasses for the entire squad, and signed his name down at the bottom.

"And that's one down," said Hisagi, taking the form from him and placing it into a tray at the edge of the desk marked as 'Completed.'

"There's no way they're all that simple, are they?" asked Ichigo, pulling another form from the stack.

"If only…" Hisagi answered as a Hell butterfly fluttered in through the open window. He held out his finger for the tiny insect to light upon as Ichigo looked over his new form.

"A request for time off…" mused Ichigo. "Should be simple enough, right? Just check the calendar and see if the day is available?"

"And you should check the individual's file, make sure he hasn't been requesting too many days off recently," Hisagi said as he listened to the silent message from the butterfly.

"Do people abuse the request forms a lot?"

"Yeah, unfortunately…" said Hisagi, frowning as the insect finally lifted off and flew away. "And it looks like you're going to have to try and figure out the rest of it on your own; I'm being sent to the world of the living to investigate a disturbance somewhere."

"Alone, or do I need to go with you?" asked Ichigo, reaching for _Zangetsu_.

"I'll be fine," said Shūhei, standing up from his seat. "I'm not going alone; there will be a few other people with me. On Captain Kyōraku's orders, Captain Kuchiki is leading a small team to some city called Ravendale to investigate a strange reading the popped up on the monitors."

"Byakuya is being sent with you?" asked Ichigo, sounding concerned. "This must be serious."

"Probably another false alarm," Hisagi growled, sounding annoyed by the prospect of going to the human world. "Remember the other week, the Omaha Incident?"

"Yeah…" said Ichigo, relaxing a bit in his chair. "When are they going to get the bugs worked out of that stupid system?"

"With the way Captain Kurotsuchi likes to constantly tweak and modify things? Probably never," answered the lieutenant as he headed for the door. "Take care of the division while I'm gone. If there's any forms you're not clear on, just leave them on my desk and I'll help you with them after I get back."

Ichigo gave a simple grunt of acknowledgement as Hisagi left the room, looking at the stack of forms sitting before him. He shuffled through them all, noting the forms asking for detailed progress reports on the _entire_ squad, and he reflected on his decision to skip school today. It had all seemed like a good idea at first, but now…

"I think I actually _miss_ calculus…"

* * *

They had been in Hueco Mundo for a couple of hours now, taking a headcount of who had made it through and who hadn't and taking time to bandage the minor wounds that had been earned in the mad scramble for the gate, but it was time to pack up and head for the Seireitei for the final phase of the plan.

Kokutō supposed that Hueco Mundo wasn't a terrible place, really; the night air was clean and relaxing, the white sands were pleasantly cool to the touch, the skies were clear and filled with hundred of twinkling stars, and there were no Kushanāda lurking around every corner to watch over them. Compared to Hell, Hueco Mundo was a truly wondrous place that was completely undeserving of the reputation it had.

He knew that Linndal Cuchullan had been looking forward to the prospect of seeing Hueco Mundo again, but the former Espada hadn't said a word since their arrival, opting instead to fall to his knees before the unimaginably-huge pile of rubble that had supposedly been the fabled palace of Los Noches once upon a time.

"It's gone," he heard Linn saying softly. "It's all gone…"

"What's the big deal?" sneered Nnoitra as he looked at the ruins. "You knew before we even left Hell that Aizen got his ass kicked by the shinigami. This ain't a surprise."

"I thought that maybe since we didn't see them in Hell, some of the others had survived and were living in the palace now…" Linn explained. "Halibel, Starrk, Lilynette…"

"Who gives a fuck about any of 'em?" asked Nnoitra. "Worthless, all of 'em!"

"I was so sure they'd have survived," Linn continued, ignoring the other arrancar. "They were all so strong, I just _knew_ they'd still be here. I thought I could come back, rejoin the pack…"

"The pack?" laughed Nnoitra cruelly. "You sound like that moronic Tyn. Got news for you there, too; we chased him into the desert and killed him right after Aizen killed you. Your precious 'pack' never really existed in the first place; it was every man for himself!"

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to know about loyalty, Nnoitra," spat Linn with disgust as he got back to his feet. "I may be The Mad Hound, but you're the _real_ animal."

"And now you sound like that green-haired bitch…" said Nnoitra, shaking his head before leaning in close and making a show of whispering conspiratorially . "Wanna know a secret? You and Tyn and Grimmjow were right all along when you questioned Tesla and carved out his eye trying to get a confession; _I_ did it. _I_ took Nel out. _I _cracked her worthless skull open and tossed her out into the desert to die!"

"You bastard…" growled Linn, tightening his grip on his spear-like zanpaktou, _Rabioso_, as he stared the still-laughing Nnoitra down. He tensed, clearly prepared to attack the other ex-Espada and make him pay for his crimes, to tear him apart.

"Gentlemen, that's _enough!_" called Kokutō, stepping in between them. "How many times must I remind everyone to save their petty squabbles for _after_ the Seireitei is ours?"

"Don't be in such a hurry to die _again_, Linn," taunted Nnoitra with a sickening grin. "I can wait for a few more hours if you can."

Linndal shook with rage for a moment before he abruptly stopped, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. "I'm fine," he said calmly. "I'm done."

"Good; we don't need any-" Kokutō began, only to cut himself off as Linn turned and sprinted off into the desert, going into his _sonido_ and disappearing within seconds.

"_Get back here, you coward!_" roared Nnoitra. "This ain't over, you hear me?!"

"Forget him," spat Kokutō. "We don't need him, anyway. Let him rot out in the desert alone; we're going for a bigger prize."

"If the Seireitei hasn't walled itself in," Tesla said quietly. "If they have the gates up and the walls made of Sekkiseki, we won't be able to get in with a _garganta_."

"Idiot," said Nnoitra, slapping his servant harshly and knocking him to the sandy ground. "Aizen said they only keep the walls up when they think there's a threat. They ain't got no idea what's coming for them!"

"Yes, Master, you are right; I apologize," groveled Tesla as he slowly got back to his feet. "Forgive me, Master."

"Are you sure the loss of Linndal won't hinder our plans," asked Cao cautiously. "He is quite powerful… We could certainly use that strength in defeating the captains."

"Fuck 'em!" declared Wolf. "I can pick up his slack _and_ yours, Chinaman."

"Wolf is right," said Kokutō. "Despite how…_irritating_ it is that Linn abandoned us, he is not necessary to our plans. The rest of us can more than make up for his loss."

"Then you shoulda let me kill him," said Nnoitra bitterly.

"You can come back and hunt him down after the Seireitei is ours," Kokutō promised him. "Let him run for the moment; we need to get going before it's too late."

"Right," Nnoitra acknowledged. "One trip to the Soul Society, coming up!"

He snapped his fingers again and a familiar black distortion began to form, ripping across the air horizontally before opening up like the foreboding maw of some great beast. Nnoitra stepped through the garganta first, forming a path of crystalline reishi beneath his feet as he headed into the black abyss. Kokutō was right behind him, letting Nnoitra lay the path for him to walk as Cain and the others came in behind the togabito.

"Remember, the captains are the highest priority," Kokutō told his army as they marched through the garganta. "The rank and file shinigami aren't a threat, but the captains need to be dealt with ASAP, followed by their lieutenants."

"The captains wear a white coat-thing," said Nnoitra. "Makes 'em easy to spot."

"A haori," added Tesla helpfully. "A white haori bearing the insignia of the Gotei 13 and their respective division on the back."

"Who asked you?" growled Nnoitra, turning around. I'm gonna-"

"Nnoitra," Kokutō said icily. "Not _now_. Keep marching."

"Yeah, yeah…" grumbled the arrancar as he resumed walking.

"The only priority above the captains is the communications center," Kokutō continued. "It has to be destroyed immediately, before they have a chance to recall Yamamoto and the rest of their forces."

"I've taken the liberty of assembling a small squad to take care of that while the rest of us hunt down the officers," Cao Cao said. "Twelve of our lesser members should be more than enough to break through whatever defenses they have and destroy the building."

"Excellent," said Kokutō, nodding. "Remember, everyone, we have to take control of the Seireitei before dawn or all is lost."

"We're here…" called Nnoitra in a sing-song voice as he reached the end of the tunnel. "Look at them down there, so fucking clueless…"

Kokutō stepped up beside him, gazing down at the peaceful-looking city down below them. The last rays of sunlight were just fading away over the horizon as the moon could be seen beginning its rise across the night sky.

"Judging by the moon, we have ten hours to get the job done, maybe a little less…" Cao observed.

"More than enough time for me," boasted Wolf, readying his ax.

"Assault team, you know what to do; make sure that there's nothing left standing when you're finished," instructed Cao. At his request, a dozen of the escaped sinners poured forth from the garganta and headed into the Seireitei, seeking the communications center. Kokutō grinned as he watched them go before turning to address the remainder of his army.

"This is it, my friends. _This_ is what we've been waiting for," he told them.

A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd as Kokutō stepped out of the garganta into the night sky, his army following his every step as they waited with baited breath for the command to unleash havoc. He drew his black sword and pointed it at the unsuspecting Seireitei down below.

"Seek and destroy, gentlemen, seek and _destroy!_"


	9. First Contact

**First Contact**

It was dusk when the scout team reached the world of the living and Ravendale with a thousand twinkling lights from the busy city providing ample illumination for the investigation, but it was all for naught; bright lights weren't necessary at all to see the main attraction.

In the sky above the city, beyond the perception of the blissfully ignorant populace, the massive and foreboding gates of the underworld stood wide open, the chains that normally held them shut had been shattered and were hanging loosely, the metal links swaying ever so slightly in the night breeze and clanking against the metal of the doors. Tormented screams could be heard from the other side of the gate, the screams of the damned enduring suffering as punishment for the sins committed during their lives, though mercifully the scout team could not see said punishments being inflicted.

"Why are the gates here?" asked Shūhei, looking to the two captains in the team in hopes of an answer. "They're not supposed to appear unless the Kushanāda are reaching out to claim a soul, and then they're supposed to vanish back into the nether!"

"And why are the chains broken?" asked Enjeru Masamune. "The chains unlatch themselves when it's time to claim a soul, don't they?"

"Something is very wrong here…" growled Saijin Komamura, the fur on his wolfish head standing on end. "You are both correct; this is not normal. This is something different, something…disturbing."

"Should we go in and investigate?" asked Ashido Kanō. "Perhaps the answers we seek are inside."

"We are forbidden," answered Captain Kuchiki, resting a hand on the hilt of his zanpaktou as he stood at the very edge of Hell. "We have no dominion in there. Our authority as 'death gods' is not recognized beyond this gate. The Kushanāda would treat us as invaders and deal with us appropriately."

"Captain Komamura, could you force the gates shut with your bankai?" asked Hisagi. "I don't know why they're open, but it can't be for anything good."

"A wise idea," said Kuchiki, walking away from the open doors. "If the gates are shut, they should fade from this realm and return to the underworld where they belong."

"Agreed," nodded Saijin as the others moved away from him. The hulking canine captain drew his zanpaktou and steeled himself, exhaling as he let his reiatsu flow freely, unrestricted. The tranquility was broken as he howled his intentions to the world, "_Bankai!_"

The very air shook and vibrated as a giant of unimaginable size, an armor-clad samurai from an era long past, rose up from nothingness. The ancient warrior held a massive zanpaktou in his hands, gripping it tightly as he stared down the nightmare gates before him as if they were an enemy to be destroyed.

"_Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō_," breathed Saijin, taking a step towards the gate as the giant mirrored his movements precisely. "Time to close these cursed doors."

Komamura mimicked reaching his arms out and grabbing an invisible set of doors and again the darkly-armored giant copied his movements as it reached forward and touched the open gates of Hell, but that single touch had disastrous consequences as a gargantuan creature, a Hell beast nearly the size of the samurai, erupted forth from the gate and attacked with savage fury.

"A Kushanāda!" exclaimed Hisagi in surprise. "What on Earth does it think it's _doing?!_"

"It's attacking Captain Komamura, _that's_ what it's doing!" snapped Enjeru as the strength of the guardian forced the giant away from the gate. "We have to help him!"

"No," said Komamura through clenched teeth, locked in battle with an invisible foe as the giant battled the Kushanāda. "I can hold him. I think I can even push him back into-"

The captain's words were cut off by the roar of a second Kushanāda coming through the open gates, entering the world of the living as a third followed closely behind.

"Sweet merciful God…" breathed Hisagi. "They're _invading _the world of the living!"

"So it would seem…" Captain Kuchiki said, drawing _Senbonzakura _from its scabbard as Captain Komamura began losing ground to the guardians. "Call the Seireitei; inform Captain Kyōraku of the situation and request backup."

"On it," answered Enjeru, pulling out his radio. "Scout team to base, scout team to base! This is Lieutenant Enjeru Masamune with an urgent message for Captain Kyōraku; please respond!"

Static was his answer.

"Keep trying," instructed Kuchiki coolly. "Scatter, _Senbonzakura_."

The blade of his zanpaktou seemed to fall apart, the metal slivers taking the form of a thousand sakura petals wafting by on the night breeze as Enjeru tried to reach the Seireitei once again.

"This is Lieutenant Masamune to base, please respond!"

More static.

The thousand sakura petals swarmed around the head of one of the Kushanāda, causing it to cease its attack against Captain Komamura's bankai in favor of swatting at its own face, trying to get rid of the nuisance. It roared and the bladed petals took the opportunity to tear their way down its throat, tearing the windpipe to pieces before finally bursting free from the neck in a crimson spray of tainted blood.

The guardian collapsed and began to disintegrate into spirit particles but the roar of a new Kushanāda from the other side of the gate told the shinigami that it was only a temporary setback.

"Base, _please_ respond!" shouted Enjeru into the transmitter. "_Anyone_, respond!"

Only static.

"It's no use," Ashido told him finally. "Communications are down."

"How can communications be down?" demanded Hisagi. "That's the _one_ thing that never goes down!"

"Something must be terribly wrong…" said Ashido grimly. "We're not going to be getting reinforcements any time soon."

"Then we hold the line _here!_" roared Komamura, finally out-muscling the first Kushanāda as the giant samurai picked up the beast over his head and then slammed it down onto his knee, snapping its spine. "I don't know what's going on in the Seireitei, but our responsibility right now is to this city and the rest of the human world; the Kushanāda cannot be allowed to roam free in the world of the living! We _must_ hold them back even if it costs our lives!"

As another Kushanāda came through the gate and others could be heard roaring off in the distance, they knew All Hollow's Eve had taken a strange and unexpected turn, had become something absolutely unprecedented.

Enjeru looked at the small army of Kushanāda on the other side of the gate, slowly making their way towards the world of the living and grimaced as he finally discarded the useless radio and drew his zanpaktou.

"This is going to be a long Halloween…"

* * *

The last bits of sunlight had just faded away over the distant horizon, the day finally losing its desperate battle to remain in charge and giving way to the rise of night when the first explosion sounded. Across the Seireitei, a thousand surprised shinigami stopped in their tracks and turned, looking over towards the sound in Division 12 and the cloud of smoke that could now be seen billowing out in the moonlight.

It only took a moment for the stunned soul reapers to rally and begin their charge over to Division 12 to see what had happened, but then the air was filled with the sounds of anguished, terrified screaming coming from _everywhere, _and the shinigami halted in their tracks once more.

Fires began to appear in different divisions, large tongues of flame from burning buildings lighting up the night sky as they reached upward hungrily as if they wanted to devour the very moon itself. The sounds of battle began to echo through the streets, the unmistakable sounds of metal meeting metal in a desperate clash for survival and, to the keen-eared observer, the wet sounds of blood splashing to the ground could be heard coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

There was no way for Captain Ushii to know _who_ the invaders were at the moment, only that the Soul Society had indeed been invaded.

He had been in the forest around the base of Sōkyoku Hill with his wife and lieutenant, Neliel, when the first explosion had occurred. They had spent the last couple of hours of the afternoon in the shade of their favorite Sakura tree, reading and enjoying the relative peace and quiet offered by having so many forces sent to the world of the living. With the fall of night, they had begun their long trek back home to Division 13 when the invasion had begun.

"Oh my God…" Neliel breathed beside him, both of them dropping their now-forgotten books to the ground as the watched the smoke begin to rise from various points within the Seireitei.

Personal time was over; it was time to get back on the clock.

"Lieutenant, go check on the rest of the squad; I'm going over to Division 12 to investigate that explosion," Anrak stated firmly, adjusting _Kage Shitsukoi_ at his side to a more aggressive position for a quick draw if need be.

"It was the communications center, wasn't it?" asked Neliel, adjusting _Gamuza _as well. "If I were going to launch an invasion, I'd disable communications first and foremost."

"So would I," answered the captain grimly. "I'll check it out and meet up with you later."

"Be careful, Captain," she told him softly.

"You, too, _koibito_," he said, watching her smile faintly at his slight breach of protocol. With nothing else but a nod to one another, they sped off towards their destinations; the lieutenant bound for the Squad 13s barracks and Captain Ushii for the communications center in Division 12.

"Damn it," Anrak growled as he ran, "I _knew_ I should have told Shunsui that something wasn't right!"

_ And what would he have done with no proof? Realistically, there would have been nothing he could do except tell people to stay alert_.

It hurt knowing that she was right and it didn't completely lift the feeling of guilt from his heart, but Anrak said nothing further and kept running. Whatever was going on had to be dealt with quickly; whoever was responsible had to be destroyed _immediately_.

The sprint to Division 12 was a fairly long one, even using _shunpo_, and he passed several battles along the way as other shinigami waged war with the aggressors. Moving at high speed made it hard to take in all the details of the enemies he passed, but he didn't note any hollow features and their ragged clothing and preference towards melee weapons suggested that they weren't Quincies, either.

_** Who are they? **_wondered the captain.

_ The enemy; do we really need to know anything more than that?_

"Wouldn't hurt," Anrak answered out loud as he sprinted. "Know thy enemy, remember?"

_ I subscribe to 'kill thy enemy,'_ Kagi responded. _Simpler, more fun._

The streets of the Seireitei were a maze, but it was one he knew well; while the lieutenant had take one route to return to Division 13, the most direct route, he had opted for another that would cut through the commons area and lead him to Division 12 and by his estimation, they should each reach their respective destinations around the same time.

The commons area was a wreck; the entrance to the Grand Mess was collapsed, the windows all smashed and broken, the outdoor picnic tables had all been broken in two and some were on fire. Shinigami from various squads were locked in combat against the aggressors and a few casualties lay scattered about, bleeding onto the pavement.

He noted that all of the casualties were the defenders; there wasn't a single corpse of the enemy to be seen anywhere and while that was rather curious, he couldn't afford to dwell on it currently. He leapt onto the rooftops to shorten his journey, bypassing the combat in the streets entirely as he neared Division 12.

He _hated_ Division 12; everyone in the Seireitei found Captain Kurotsuchi to be creepy and unethical and Anrak had developed a rather personal distaste for the man over the years, thanks largely to the mad scientist's fascination with trying to see how much Neliel unconsciously remembered of her human life. But, he conceded, that was no reason to turn a blind eye to Kurotsuchi's subordinates when they could be in danger; to do so would be nearly as unethical as Mayuri Kurotsuchi himself.

Anrak reached the communications center and hopped down from roof of the nearest building to find himself standing before a collapsed building, the various antenna arrays and radar dishes that had been on the roof utterly destroyed.

And all around the remains of the building lay the bodies of the shinigami that had worked in the communications center.

Some of the technicians had clearly tried to run, only to be ruthlessly cut down by the invaders. Others lay partially buried in the rubble, crushed and impaled by falling debris.

"Damn…" he hissed, surveying the damage. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of; all communication with the world of the living had been cut off, making it impossible to recall Yamamoto or the scout team Kyōraku had deployed earlier in the evening.

The Seireitei was being invaded and there were three captains and three lieutenants not present to help defend.

The sound of someone coughing caught his attention and he spied some of the rubble moving ever so slightly. The captain climbed across the debris pile to the moving segment and began to dig, moving fragments of wood, drywall, and metal out of the way to discover a surviving technician that had been buried.

Rin Tsubokura coughed some more, struggling to get to his feet as Anrak reached down and pulled him up. The bloodied and terrified technician looked at Anrak and an expression of relief came across his face.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Captain Ushii! We've been attacked!"

"So I can see…" Anrak said. "What can you tell me about them? Do you know who or what they are?"

"I don't really know…" Rin apologized meekly. "I heard the guys outside on break screaming and there was noise on the roof before the screens went dark, then the building just collapsed!"

"Well, all that matters now is that you're okay, Rin," Anrak told him, managing a comforting smile as best he could. "Look, I hate to ask this of you given what you've been through, but is there any way you can get communications up and running again?"

"I understand, Captain; it's okay," Rin told him, running a bloodied hand through his dirty hair as he looked around at the remains of the building. "I don't know… I _think_ I can cobble something together, but the radio stations and computer terminals were all destroyed in the collapse."

"So…we're screwed?"

"Well, the terminals we had in here were the newer models; the old ones are stored in that shed over there," said Rin, pointing to the building Anrak had originally leapt down from. "They should still be operational, _if_ I can get some power to them and connect them to a functional antenna."

"Do it," ordered the captain. "I'll keep you safe."

"I need a few things from the shed before I can get started," said Rin, hurrying over and unlocking the door to the building. "Some tools, some cable…"

"Understood," said Anrak, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the technician rummaged through the supply shed. "Come on out and show yourselves; I _know_ you're here!"

A handful of figures stepped out from around a corner, clad in dirty rags and holding swords that weren't zanpaktou; they clearly weren't rogue shinigami or arrancar, but that still didn't tell him who they were. Disgruntled citizens from the Rukon, maybe?

"Who are you?" he asked finally, doubting he'd get a straight answer. "Why have you attacked us?"

As expected, their only answer was a nonverbal one as they rushed forward, weapons poised to murder the captain standing before them.

As if it would be so easy.

Anrak darted to the right, towards the closest attacker, dodging a painfully easy to read blade thrust and grabbing the other man's wrist as it sailed by. Without even a grunt, the captain used his opponent's momentum to sling him around and throw him towards his comrades, catching two of them by surprise with the flying body. A fourth came for him with a slash meant to sever his head, but Anrak merely held up an arm and blocked it, the blade harmlessly bouncing off the leather _tekkou _armguards he wore.

"Someone as weak as you could never hope to cut me," he spat, deflecting the sword and grabbing the surprised man by his head and hefting him into the air before slamming him back down to the ground mercilessly. "Do yourself a favor and don't move; you have some questions to answer after I deal with your friends."

The other three were getting back to their feet now, but they couldn't recover fast enough as Anrak covered the distance with a quick flash step, drilling one with a powerful sidekick that crunched the target's ribcage inward, skewering his organs. The mortally wounded man went flying backwards before abruptly bursting into flame, burning for but a split second as his body disintegrated into black ash and left behind a telltale smell of brimstone.

"So, _that's_ what you are…" Anrak said, ducking under a wild swing and finally drawing _Kage Shitsukoi_ from her scabbard. He didn't bother calling her into her shikai form as he came up, neatly shearing his attacker in two and causing him to turn to ash before blocking the incoming blade of the third man. He cast a quick glance over at the fourth warrior, the one he'd originally told to stay put, "Looks like I may not need to question you after all."

The downed fighter growled as he hopped back to his feet, grabbing his sword and lunging forward with a thrust that was every bit as ineffectual as the one attempted earlier by his now-deceased comrade. Anrak turned, forcing the opponent he was locked up with to turn with him before shoving him back into the oncoming blade. The sword pierced his chest, right through the heart, and like the other two warriors before him, his corporeal body was immediately consumed by flame.

"Just you and me now," Anrak informed the last remaining aggressor. "I don't suppose you want to surrender, do you?"

His only response was a roar of hatred as he attacked again, bringing his blade down in an overhead arc. Anrak took a single step in and raised his zanpaktou horizontally, metal meeting metal for a brief moment before he batted the sword away and took another step, spinning around and reversing the grip on his sword. He pulled the blade towards him, letting it narrowly miss his abdomen as he stabbed backwards and impaled the other man. There was a burst of heat as the corpse at his back burned for a brief second before departing the Soul Society.

"Wasn't really in the mood to take prisoners, anyway," muttered Anrak, pulling his zanpaktou back before raising it up and swinging it back down quickly, flinging blood and ash from the blade before he returned it to the scabbard.

"I've got the tools I need, Captain!" Rin declared, finally emerging from the shed with his arms full of equipment. "At least, I _think_ I do…"

"Good," the captain nodded. "Get to work and I'll cover you."

Rin babbled an acknowledgement as he set his gear down and began digging through the debris pile for salvageable parts as Anrak dutifully stood guard, watching the shadows for more intruders hell-bent on murder and mayhem. He knew now that the invaders were from Hell, escaped sinners who were supposed to be doomed to the pits until the Kushanāda decided they had suffered enough and allowed them to re-enter the cycle of reincarnation. He didn't know _how_ they had managed to escape and at the moment, the specifics didn't really matter.

He just hoped that all the invaders were as weak as the last four.

* * *

It was a fact of nature that hollows lacked hearts and logic followed that an arrancar, being a more-advanced form of hollow, would also lack a heart. It was common sense, after all; something that all shinigami knew well. Still, despite all the facts and logic that she had known her entire afterlife, Neliel felt a fierce ache in her chest, as if something fragile was breaking.

She stood just outside the Division 13 barracks or rather, what was _left_ of the barracks; the building had been utterly ravaged, massive gouges carved out along the walls, body-sized holes in other sections, a collapsed roof, broken windows, and a raging fire was consuming what was still standing.

Beyond that was the _true _horror; the bodies of her subordinates-young shinigami who had looked up to her, trusted her, _depended_ on her-lay broken and twisted, their lifeless eyes staring unblinkingly into the sky.

She didn't want to look at their faces and the expressions of pain and horror that were etched upon them, but she couldn't just look away and ignore them, either. Names sprang to mind as she took in each one, names and memories associated with them: correcting a mistake here, a laugh there, praise over there, a light scolding here…

And then she noticed something else about the bodies, something she had initially missed at first glance…

The wounds looked familiar, _very _familiar.

She had seen injuries like these before, back in Hueco Mundo when she and the other Espada had been tasked with going into the desert and seeking out new _Vasto Lordes _to join the cause. She had seen carnage similar to this when she and a partner had been sent to investigate a small colony of supposed _Lordes_ living deep in the desert…

It wasn't possible, it _couldn't_ be him…

But the scene around here was so frighteningly familiar…

She took off in a run, following the trail of blood and destruction and desperately hoping that when she reached its end, there would not be a familiar face waiting for her.

The bodies led her to the kidō range which had closed for the evening hours ago, but that didn't seem to matter to the two men currently there. The first man had his back to her, but she recognized his tattered white outfit, greasy black hair, and massive scythe-like weapon with blades like a pair of crescent moons immediately. Her fears confirmed, she looked over to the other man and recognized him immediately as well; he was another one of her subordinates, a young man who had been part of the most recent class from the Soul Academy, someone who was a bit timid and very inexperienced, someone who had never seen real combat before…

And now he was standing before an Espada, weapon drawn defensively.

Nel saw the first man raise his giant weapon over his head and knew she couldn't make it there in time…

"Shinta, _run!_" she cried as the weapon came down.

The young shinigami reacted quickly, more quickly than she would have expected, raising his zanpaktou up to block the incoming strike…

It wasn't enough.

The blade of his zanpaktou shattered into a thousand steel fragments as the larger weapon plowed downwards, biting into Shinta's shoulder and ripping all the way down to his pelvis. The young shinigami fell to the ground in slow motion, split in two by the attack. He twitched once, twice, and then moved no more.

A chuckle could be heard coming from the other man as he slowly turned around, "That voice…Is that _you_, Nel?"

"Nnoitra," she hissed angrily.

"It _is_ you!" he cackled as he shouldered his gore-coated weapon and looked at his former comrade appraisingly. "I didn't expect this and…are those _soul reaper robes_ you're wearing? Did you actually _join_ these pissants?"

"I'm the lieutenant of Squad 13," she informed him icily. "These are _my_ men. Shinta was _my_ responsibility!"

"You make an even worse shinigami than you did a hollow, then," sneered Nnoitra, letting his zanpaktou drop back down, the blade embedding itself in Shinta's remains with a sickening _thunk_. "Is this the part where you bitch at me for being a mindless beast? A lowly animal?"

"No," answered Neliel as she forced her nerves to calm down, the rage fading from her hazel eyes as she calmly prepared to do her duty. "I've had time to think it over since our days in Hueco Mundo… Animals don't kill for fun; they kill for food or to defend themselves. Only 'intelligent' beings kill for fun."

"Is that _praise_ I hear, Nel?" asked Nnoitra mockingly.

"You're not an animal; you're just _evil_," Neliel told him, placing her right hand on the hilt of _Gamuza_. "It's taken me a while, but I can see it clearly now; you were never worth my efforts to teach you. I won't waste any more time trying to save you from yourself… No, I'm going to do what I _should_ have done years ago…"

"And what's _that_, exactly?" asked Nnoitra, his face twisting into a psychotic grin as he hefted his weapon once again and then kicked Shinta's body out of the way.

The lieutenant drew her zanpaktou from its sheath solemnly, locking her cold eyes on her enemy as she raised the blade into an aggressive posture.

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Nnoitra."


	10. Dead by Dawn

**Dead by Dawn**

All Hollow's Eve in the Seireitei was generally a peaceful, quiet night for those shinigami who had managed to dodge deployment; with so many of their peers gone, there was little to do except relax and enjoy the quietness of the massive city. Some people opted to spend their time hanging with friends in other divisions, some would go to their division dojo and work to better themselves, some would just sleep it all away, and others still would find more interesting ways to spend their time.

And then there were some who would go hide in another division simply because their captain was on the warpath…

Tatter de Malion reflected on this as he sat in the Squad 6 mess hall, watching Jean Rawlings carefully write down the recipe for his "good ol' Cajun gumbo" and wondering why Captain Sui-Feng had been so unreasonably _pissed_ all day.

Not that an angry Sui-Feng was anything new to Tatter, but generally he could pinpoint exactly what had set her off and then find some way to rectify the situation that would result in an uneasy sense of peace in the Squad 2 office.

Generally, but not today.

She'd been mad as Hell from sometime before he had walked into the office up until he'd finally had enough and left for lunch. He'd taken an extended lunch break, hoping she'd cool off, but that hadn't worked, either.

She would not say why she was upset, she would not tolerate him attempting to ask. She did not want his advice or his sympathy and she did not even want to discuss squad business with him. She'd darkly muttered something about murdering someone repeatedly and any attempt to find out who and why had met with vicious threats and demands that he "go to Hell" and mind his own damn business.

And then Jean had casually stopped by, said a few words to the rampaging ninja, and magically, Sui-Feng stopped being angry at the world.

If Tatter didn't know better, he'd have swore he saw the ghost of a smile grace her lips for a second.

Of course, the bad mood had returned shortly after Jean's departure and Tatter had made it his mission to track the other shinigami down and learn his secret.

"Well?" he asked a bit irritably as Jean continued to transcribe the recipe to paper. "Are you going to answer me?"

He'd bluntly asked the younger man how he was immune to the captain's temper a few minutes ago, but the Cajun had simply looked at him, smiled, and shook his head before going back to his writing.

"Ain't really a secret," he said finally. "Is simple, really. You gonna feel awful dumb when I tell ya."

"I'll risk it," answered the lieutenant.

"I jes treat her like a person," said Jean, shrugging without looking up from his work. "Seem like everyone treat her like some_thing_ instead of some_one_; some people be afraid of her like she a monster, some people look up ta her like she a god, some people treat her like an angry child… I jes treat her like a person. I treat her like I wanna be treated. I treat her like a _friend_."

Tatter stared at the other man, mouth agape for a second before snapping his jaw shut and involuntarily curling a fist in annoyance.

"That _can't_ be all there is to it," he said. "Captain Sui-Feng is-"

"She a person who ain't neva had a friend who didn't want nothin' from her," said Jean, cutting him off. "Everyone always want somethin' from her: respect, assignments, promotions… I ain't neva ask her for anythin'. I jes talk and I listen. I smile. I let her know that she a person. I let her know she can trust me."

"Sui-Feng doesn't trust anyone except Yoruichi."

"Well, I reckon you probably right, but I figure I'm probably number two and I'm fine with that," said Jean, putting the finishing touches on the paper before folding it up and tucking it away inside his shihakushō.

"That's all?" asked Tatter in disbelief, unclenching his fist. "Seriously, it's _that_ simple?"

"Told ya it'd make ya feel dumb," grinned Jean. "I didn't even know she was a cap'n for a long time… It was right after the war; she was comin' out of tha hospital when I first ran into her, no haori or nothing. She was flexin' her arm like it'd been hurt an' I stopped ta ask if she was okay. She got kinda snippy with me at first, but I jes kept a talkin.'"

"When _I _try to talk to her, she gets pissed," Tatter said with a sigh.

"You jes gotta keep at it," Jean advised him. "Don't force it too much, but don't be backing' down too easy, neither. An' don't get mad when she get all huffy; jes smile and back off a lil bit. Let her know that you don' want nothin' from her an' that she worth somethin' as a _person_, not jes as a cap'n."

"Don't get mad when she gets pissy with me, huh?" snorted Tatter. "Easier said than done."

"Ain't nothin' eva easy…least, not tha things that really matter."

"It's going to take a long while to get her to not be so bitchy with me…" said Tatter. "I'm going to have to work at curbing my own temper and biting my tongue… Anyway, what's with the recipe? You going to give that to her?"

"This?" asked Jean, patting the recipe in his uniform and chuckling. "Shucks, no; Lieutenant Nel ask for this an I promised ta get it for her. I jes can't imagine Sha tryin' ta cook nothin'; ain't got tha temperament for it."

The image of Captain Sui-Feng angrily using her bankai against an unruly soufflé and blowing the Division 2 mess hall to smithereens popped into Tatter's mind, causing him to snicker as he imagined bits of debris and inedible food raining everywhere…

He stopped laughing as a _real_ explosion could be heard in the distance, followed shortly thereafter by the frantic sounds of yelling and screaming throughout the Seireitei.

Tatter and Jean ditched their seats and sprinted for the exit, running outside to see smoke rising from Division 12.

"Think it was anotha' experiment gone bad?" asked Jean hopefully.

"Listen to the screams…" answered Tatter grimly. "They're coming from all over the city. This isn't another lab accident; we're under attack."

"By who?" asked the younger man. "An' _why?_"

"The Seireitei has no shortage of enemies…" said the lieutenant. "Come on, let's go report to Sui-Feng and see what's going on."

"Reckon I might as well, seein' as my own cap'n is gone for tha night," said Jean, adjusting the saber-like zanpaktou on his hip. "Lead tha way an' I'll follow."

The two shinigami took off, using _shunpo_ to rapidly traverse the distance from Division 6 to Division 2. Tatter had to hold himself back so his companion could keep pace with him, but it gave him time to analyze what was going on around them as they moved.

Shinigami were fighting the invaders in the street, invaders with worn, ragged clothing that had a lot of burn marks on them, and the stench of sulfur…

"_Togabito_…" he growled as he ran. "Sinners from Hell."

"Sinners?" asked Jean, confused. "How they get out an' why they here?"

"Don't know about how, but why is easy enough; we have the freedom they want," answered Tatter. "The Kushanāda can't reach them here, so once we're out of the way…"

"There'd be no one ta send em back ta Hell," finished Jean. "Well, we ain't gonna make it that easy for em, are we?"

"They're going to wish they'd stayed put when I'm…" Tatter began, trailing off and slowing to a stop outside the gates for Division 4. "Oh my god…"

A pair of bodies, both female, both medics from Squad 4 lay at the gates, utterly butchered with multiple stab wounds, slit throats, and several of their internal organs pulled out and left lying in the street. The pool of blood was massive and just beyond it lay crimson footprints left by the murderer as he ventured deeper into the division.

"An' Cap'n Unohana was goin' to tha Rukon today, wasn't she?" asked Jean. "Ain't no one in there to stop this fella."

"I'll stop-" began Tatter, gritting his teeth.

"No, you go an' check on Sha," said Jean, stepping away from the lieutenant and kneeling beside the corpses, shutting their still-open eyes for them. He rose slowly, gripping the scabbard of his zanpaktou tightly with his left hand. "I'll take care o' this."

"Jean.."

"Go on now," shooed the Cajun as he carefully stepped over the slowly-expanding pool of red and into Division 4. "I ain't no lieutenant, but I be okay. You jes go take care o' Sha for me, ya hear?"

"Right…" said Tatter with a nod. "I'll come back for you after I make sure the captain is fine."

Tatter watched the other soul reaper's back for a few moments more before taking a deep breath and resuming his mission to reach Division 2; if these were indeed escaped sinners from Hell, there _he_ could be back and he would know just where to wait for Tatter…

No, there was no 'could be' to it; Tatter _knew_ that his old nemesis would be part of this invasion.

_ Äs Nödt…_

In all of his long centuries of hunting Quincies, never before had the opportunity arose for Tatter to kill the same one twice…

This time, he intended to make damn sure that there would never be a _third_ time.

* * *

Jean hadn't been a Soul Reaper for very long, especially when compared to the man he had just parted ways with, but he took his job very seriously. He liked making friends, he enjoyed laughter and good food and the absurdities offered by life, but he never lost sight of his duty to protect others. He was not very strong, had yet to achieve his _shikai_ release, but the fires of determination and justice burned brightly within him and the sight of so many of his peers butchered made those fires cry out.

Somewhere in Division 4 was a madman who had to be stopped, no matter the cost.

Jean stopped beside another corpse, solemnly kneeling beside it and closing her eyes as he muttered a brief "Rest in peace."

This was the fifth one he'd found so far.

Five bodies, all torn apart, and all were women.

He'd known some of these girls; kind, sweet ladies who had tended his wounds a few times and the wounds of his friends. They were angels of mercy whose combat skills were virtually nonexistent, but the size of their hearts was unimaginable; always smiling, always caring for even the most unruly patients, always ready to drop what they were doing to help someone in pain…

What kind of heartless monster could murder such people?

He stood back up with a sigh and resumed his search, following the bloody footprints deeper and deeper into the division. He strained his ears, listening for a sign of his target, but the only sounds he heard were shouts and screams from other divisions; whoever he was following here was quick and silent.

And becoming increasingly frenzied, judging by the condition of each new corpse.

The Cajun turned a corner and finally spotted his quarry, a man in tattered black clothes grappling with another woman from behind with one hand covering her mouth to prevent her screaming and the other plunging a knife into her midsection repeatedly.

"_Let her go!_" commanded Jean, drawing his saber-like zanpaktou from its scabbard and pointing it at the man threateningly. "If'n ya wanna fight someone, ya can jes fight me instead!"

The murderer paused as if confused by the command, noticing Jean for the first time. The two eyed each other for a moment before the man in black raised his knife and slit his victim's throat before shoving her away roughly.

"Fight someone?" asked the man, still sounding confused as he sheathed his still-bloody knife in his belt and retrieved a black cane from the ground beside him. "I have no desire to fight anyone, chap; I'm doing God's work, you see."

"Ain't no God of mine," said Jean with disgust. "You jes a killer! Ain't none o' these ladies eva-"

"Ladies?" laughed the other man harshly. "There are no genuine 'ladies' left in the world, dear boy; my time in the pit taught me that much. These _whores_ are just women with no character; they talk to any man that approaches them, they dare venture outside the house and wander the streets, and for _what_? To sell themselves like the prostitutes they are!"

"You jes don't get it, do ya?" asked Jean. "These ladies are doctors; it's their job ta heal people so o' course they talk ta lots o' people. They walkin' around outside cause they ain't prisoners; they people, good honest people."

"I shouldn't expect someone like _you_ to understand," hissed the sinner. "No one understands my work."

"I understand jes fine," Jean said as he closed in, blade trained on his opponent. "You sick in tha head an' tha only cure is ta send ya _back_ ta tha pit ya crawled out of!"

"You expect to succeed where all of Scotland Yard failed?" laughed the sinner, unscrewing the top of his cane and pulling out a long, slender sword blade. "The ignorance of youth, particularly Americans, never ceases to amaze me."

"My name is Jean Rawlings o' Squad 6 an' I _will_ stop you," Jean declared. "I ain't gonna let you hurt no one else!"

The togabito chuckled and took a theatrical bow.

"And you, dear boy, can call me Jack…"

* * *

Sui-Feng was in the middle of one of the blackest moods she'd ever experienced, rage seething from every pore in her petite little body as she clenched and unclenched her fists and contemplated murder. It was late into the evening now and while it had been many, many hours since she found the offensive pumpkin and rubber spider, her anger adamantly refused to leave.

Of course, part of the reason she was still angry was that when she'd went to retrieve her diary and vent, she had found the drawer unlocked and she _knew_ that it had been locked the night before.

Haname Shiba had been reading her private thoughts.

That goddamned silver-headed she-bitch had been sitting in Sui-Feng's chair, no doubt with her feet on the desk, reading through her private diary…

There were no words for her rage, only imagery of a twisted, broken corpse left in a ditch.

She _could_ have went to Captain Zaraki and demanded that he do something about it since Haname was one of his officers now, but she knew full well that Kenpachi Zaraki wouldn't give a damn.

She _could_ have went and simply killed the bothersome pest, but unjustified murder was frowned upon my Yamamoto and unfortunately he would not view Haname's taunts as justification.

She _could_ arrange for the former assassin to simply disappear… There would be suspicion, of course, but no proof…

What Sui-Feng _couldn't _do was tell her lieutenant the cause of her distress, though he had certainly tried to pry it from her; she couldn't let anyone know that she did something as juvenile as keep a diary! Knowing Tatter, he'd spend the rest of his days making snide comments about it, maybe even try and read it himself…

Unacceptable; he would have to "disappear" as well.

The one and only bright spot of the day had been the unexpected visit from Jean, the strange Soul Reaper from Squad 6. He'd simply come by to say hello and wish her a "Happy Halloween," and had left her with a small bag of candies he'd bought out in the Rukon, candies that she had yet to touch.

She ceased her angry movements and eyed the still-full bag sitting on her desk, remembering that she had been unable to eat during lunch because she was far too _pissed_ to have an appetite… She normally avoided candy because it was unhealthy, sickeningly-sweet, and fattening, but one little piece couldn't hurt, could it?

She slowly walked over to the desk and opened the bag, pausing to take a look around as if someone might be watching. Satisfied that she was alone, she extracted a single piece of chocolate, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.

Miraculously, her rage began to subside as she chewed on the gooey piece of candy. She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as the chocolate melted in her mouth, pushing out all images of Haname Shiba and replacing them with simple nothingness; the former assassin would get what was coming to her in due time, there was no reason to let her ruin the day…

Sui-Feng swallowed the candy and smiled softly, feeling better about herself for a few brief moments before an explosion sounded on the far side of the Seireitei.

Five seconds of joy before she was thrown right back into a foul mood…

Typical.

"What the hell?" she snarled, crossing from her desk to the office door in two quick strides and slinging the door open. She stepped outside and looked around, noticed the smoke drifting from Division 12, obscuring her view of the moon.

Then the screaming started…

Not from Division 12, as she would have expected, but from elsewhere within the Seireitei. She couldn't pinpoint exactly where it had come from, but as other shouts joined together in a chorus of pain and terror, Sui-Feng knew that they were under attack.

First things first; she had to check out Division 12 and make damn sure that the communications center was up and running so all the forces in the human world could be recalled. She took off, going into _shunpo_ and taking to the rooftops to bypass the streets, though she was quite certain that the communications center was already toast.

It was, after all, the first target she would have went for.

Still, if anything was salvageable…

She sped past the other divisions, carefully taking in the details of all the intruders she saw: tattered and ripped rags for clothing, burn scars here and there, bodies covered with dirt, soot, and ash… It didn't take her long to figure out that the invaders were _togabito_, sinners from Hell, though she couldn't fathom how they had managed to escape the pits and make it to the Seireitei.

Well, the specifics could be investigated later; right now, the _how_ didn't mean a damn thing to her.

She was almost to Division 12, hopping across rooftops in Division 11, when the building she landed on suddenly collapsed.

Sui-Feng was quick, though, and very light on her feet; she instant the building began to fall, she sprung off and somersaulted to the ground safely, turning to look at the pile of rubble and what had caused it.

"You fast, little girl," said the togabito before her, a massive, hulking brute of a man with dark skin and a cruel, ugly face. "I thought for sure you'd go down with the building and be crushed."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Sui-Feng said sarcastically, "but I'm not that easy to dispatch."

"That's good to hear… Ain't no fun if it's over in one punch, is it?"

"Fun?" asked Sui-Feng, deciding that investigating Division 12 would have to be postponed until she dealt with the meathead standing before her. "You're not going to find this very fun at all; you picked a fight with the wrong woman."

"I ain't never lost a fight, and I ain't about to start by losing to some little girl," said the togabito, flexing his sizeable arms. "I am undefeated! I am the invincible Reiger Moncrief, little girl, and I've killed many men three times your size in the ring."

"You'll find that size doesn't mean much around here…" said the captain, drawing her zanpaktou from its scabbard at her back. "Sting all enemies to death, _Suzumebachi!_"

* * *

Tōshirō Hitsugaya had been looking forward to relaxing for once, he truly had; he'd had the radio on in the office, a bag of watermelon-flavored candies stashed away in his desk, and a new sketchpad just waiting to be tried out. For years now, the teen had been thinking up his own manga but rarely did he have the chance to work on it. He had thought that with the peace and quiet offered by having a half-empty Seireitei, he might have a chance to get a few pages done and _finally_ finish his first book, possibly even start on the second…

And then those plans got shot straight to Hell the moment he heard the explosion in Division 12.

He refused to let his irritation show, though; he had not cursed in anger, had not flown into a rage. Quickly and quietly, he had locked all of his treasures away in the bottom drawer of his desk before retrieving Hyōrinmaru from the sword rack behind his seat and heading outside to see what exactly was going on.

"Captain, we're under attack!" shouted a panicked shinigami that ran towards him. "What should we do?"

"We defend the Seireitei, of course," answered the tiny ice captain confidently. "I want you to find four others and go guard the division gates; no one, absolutely _no one_ who isn't in the Gotei 13 is to be allowed entry. Do whatever you must to keep intruders out; you are authorized to use lethal force if necessary."

"Yes, Sir!" barked the taller shinigami, giving a sharp salute before sprinting off towards the gates and calling for others to join him.

"Damn it, Rangiku, where are you when I _need _you?" growled Hitsugaya to himself. This was an emergency situation and he knew that while Rangiku Matsumoto was notoriously lazy, she would not shirk her duty at a time like this. Still, he wished she had been nearby instead of out drinking sake somewhere else.

Whatever; she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. The captain's primary concern right now had to be making it to Division 12 to investigate the explosion; if that was the communications center…

He tried not to think about all the worst case scenarios as he ran, opting to instead focus on the single-minded belief that whoever the invaders were, they would be swiftly defeated and driven back to whence they came.

So focused on that singular idea was the captain that he nearly lost his head.

He saw the blade, something reminiscent of a Chinese Dao broadsword, a split second before it was too late, ducking and rolling underneath the lethal piece of steel.

"Good reflexes," praised a voice as it stepped away from the shadows, revealing a man clad in ancient-looking armor that had clearly been ornate once upon a time, but now it was simply battered and worn, a relic of an era long gone. "Most others in your position would be dead by now."

"Who are you?" growled Hitsugaya as he got back to his feet, pulling the long blade of _Hyōrinmaru _free of its scabbard. "What do you want? Why have you come here?"

"What I want, my dear Captain, is to kill you and all who would follow you," answered the other man, his Chinese accent thick. "We want freedom; nothing more, nothing less. You stand in the way of that."

"Freedom from what?" pressed Hitsugaya. "Who _are_ you?"

"Cao Cao, at your service, Captain," said the other man with a polite nod of his bearded head. "My comrades and I went through a lot of trouble to come here tonight; escaping Hell is not an easy feat."

"Togabito…" breathed Hitsugaya. "That's not possible! No one has ever escaped the pits!"

"And yet here I am…" said Cao, drawing a second sword as he approached the captain. "Is seeing not believing for Soul Reapers?"

"If what you say is true, then I have no choice but to send you back to Hell," growled the captain, tightening his grip on his zanpaktou.

"Big words for such a small captain… Come; show me why you wear that haori…and I will show you how I built empires."

* * *

At first, the unexpected explosion in Division 12 and the chaos that followed had been like a godsend to one very bored Kenpachi Zaraki; after all, All Hollow's Eve was generally filled with boring, run of the mill hollows that weren't worth his time and the few individuals who _were_ worth his time, like Kurosaki and Ushii, adamantly refused to go another round with him.

The imposing captain had been stretched out on the couch in his office, laying on his back and counting the tiny, nearly imperceptible imperfections in the paint on the ceiling out of sheer boredom as his lieutenant, the diminutive Yachiru Kusajisi, sat in the floor merrily drawing pretty pictures of pink unicorns on the paperwork earmarked as being the weekly reports on the division status. Old man Yama didn't exactly appreciate getting artwork, however meticulously drawn and detailed with mythical creatures and 'Kenny' slaughtering them all they were, but he had long ago given up on trying to get Zaraki or his hyperactive lieutenant to conform to traditional expectations.

"Well, something at least _sounds_ fun," grinned Kenpachi as the sound of the nearby explosion reverberated across the division. "Let's go see what the fuss is all about, Yachiru."

"Yay, Kenny!" cheered Yachiru, hopping up on his shoulder as he stood up from the couch and grabbed his battered zanpaktou. "Maybe it's going to be a Happy Halloween after all!"

"Maybe so, Yachiru," agreed the psychotic captain. "A good fight is _much_ better than some stupid candy or a pointless party."

The duo stepped out of the office, looking towards the rising pillar of smoke coming from the neighboring division and grinning even broader.

Neither Zaraki or Yachiru were known for their sense of direction and rather than trying to navigate their way to whatever the hell had been blown up, they opted to tear through the streets and follow their ears to the sounds of battle. Kenpachi grinned when he saw the first of the invaders, rushing at them with manic glee as he unsheathed his zanpaktou and gave a battle cry to announce his intentions…

…it wasn't enough.

Most weren't quick enough to dodge his attacks and those few who were we're strong enough to actually stop him. One by one, they all fell with a single swing. One by one, Kenpachi felt his elation disappearing.

"Is this it?" he asked in disgust, coming to a stop after felling his latest victim. "Is this all there is? Pathetic!"

"You're the strongest ever, Kenny!" Yachiru encouraged him. "Of course they couldn't stop you!"

"Where's the fun in being unstoppable?" he said. "Where's the excitement? Christ, I should have just stayed on the couch if this is all there is."

And then providence stepped in as a wall exploded outward and the beaten and battered form of one Ikkaku Madarame came tumbling to a stop at his feet. He was still holing the broken hilt of his zanpaktou and his face was a mask of crimson, but still he tried to push himself back to his feet.

"I haven't even gotten started yet…" he panted, legs wobbling as a large, bearded figure clad in tattered rags and animal furs and carrying a battleaxe stepped through the hole after him.

"You were dead the moment you met me," sneered an Irish accent. "You're a third-seat? Pathetic!"

Kenpachi eyed the newcomer appraisingly and Ikkaku noticed the glint in his captain's eye.

"I've got this, Captain," he said, wheezing in a manner that indicated his ribs were broken. "I can-"

"You've got brain damage if you think you can take him," said Kenpachi. "You can barely stand up!"

"Captain, I can-" began Ikakku, only to have Kenpachi grab him and yank him backwards.

"Go play with Yachiru," Zaraki ordered him as he drew his zanpaktou. "This guy looks pretty strong. Maybe he can keep this night from being a total waste."

"Pretty strong?" echoed the berserker. "Pretty strong? _I'M THE STRONGEST THERE IS!_"

He charged Kenpachi, swinging his massive at the captain's skull, but Zaraki rushed forward to meet the attack with his own blade, stopping the powerful swing. Kenpachi grinned as he pushed back against the ax, noticing that he could barely move it.

The berserker noticed it as well, though, and he began to grin madly, his face a twisted mirror of Kenpachi's own.

"Well, I'll be damned; I finally found someone who _might_ be worth my time!" said the Irishman.

"I was just thinking the same thing!" declared Kenpachi as the two warriors took a step back from one another, eyeing each other critically.

"I haven't had a good challenge in centuries…" said the berserker, a hungry look on his face as he tightened his grip on his ax. "Everyone always seems to die in one swing…"

"Funny; I seem to have the exact same problem," said Kenpachi. "What about it? What say you and I have some _real_ fun?"

"Yeah, fun…" agreed the Irishman with a mad grin. "Wolf the Quarrelsome hasn't had fun in a long time…"

Kenpachi gave a hearty laugh as he prepared to battle in earnest.

"I'm Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of Squad 11; let's play!"

* * *

On the plus side of things, the sudden eruption of carnage across the Seireitei made the mountain of paperwork insignificant and forgettable. At the other end of the spectrum, however, Ichigo knew that people all across the city were locked in battles for their lives and many of them would be dead before the battle was over.

It was official now; Ichigo Kurosaki _hated_ Halloween.

He ran through the streets of Division 9, trying to help as many of his peers as possible while still trying to be the commanding figure an Acting-Lieutenant should be, but he still wasn't used to having people turn to him for orders.

"What should we do, Lieutenant Kurosaki?" asked a young woman, a crowd of ten or eleven other shinigami looking on for answers. "These people are everywhere! Who are they and what do they want?"

"Where's Lieutenant Hisagi?" asked another. "We need him!"

"The barracks are on fire!" called someone else.

"Something exploded in Division 12!" added someone else.

"Calm down, everyone," Ichigo said, using his hands for emphasis. "Hisagi's on assignment in the world of the living; we're on our own for this. I know something blew up in Division 12 and that's probably related to this invasion, but right now our priority is defending the city!"

"What about the barracks? We can't just ignore them!"

"Who here has a water or ice-based zanpaktou?" asked Ichigo, watching as a couple of hands raised in the back of the group. "I want you two to put out the fire before it spreads. Rest of you, provide cover for them. After you've put the fire out and secured the area, start sweeping through the streets and pushing the enemy back."

"Lieutenant, who _are_ these people?"

"I don't know," answered Ichigo honestly, "and right now it doesn't matter; all that we need to know, all that matters, is that they're invading the Seireitei and they have to be stopped at any cost. It's that simple."

"But-"

"Look," Ichigo interrupted the protest, "I get that you're scared. I get that a lot of you are new. But right now, we don't have a choice; if you want to protect your home, you're going to have to stand up and be strong. We can beat this; work together, trust each other, and remember everything you've been taught."

"Are you going to fight with us, Lieutenant?"

"I'm going to find the bastard in charge and kick his ass," declared the teen boldly, eliciting cheers from the gathered crowd.

"Is that so?" asked a voice from the shadows, prompting Ichigo to draw _Zangetsu_ and step between the shinigami under his charge and the new arrival. "That's one…_hell_ of a boast there."

"Go take care of the barracks and start pushing the invaders back," Ichigo growled to the soul reapers standing behind him. "I'll take care of this."

"I was looking for a captain, but I suppose killing a lieutenant will be a good warm up for me…" said the other man as he casually walked towards Ichigo, drawing a black sword with a barb-like tip and grinning evilly.

"What's with the bandages? Looks to me like someone else already kicked your sorry ass," taunted Ichigo with a grin. "I feel kinda bad about fighting someone who should obviously be in the hospital."

"Is that so?" asked the bandaged man with a smirk before disappearing entirely. Surprised at the sudden burst of speed, Ichigo barely managed to get _Zangetsu_ up to block a slice meant to separate the top half of his skull from the rest of his body. "What's wrong, boy? I don't hear you laughing anymore."

With a grunt, Ichigo pushed back against the enemy's blade with _Zangetsu_ and forced him back a meter. He glared at the invader, anger now showing in his brown eyes instead of the mockery from before.

"You're pretty strong…" Ichigo said finally. "Stronger than the others I saw in the streets. You're the leader, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," answered the bandaged me. "You may call my Kokutō and this entire operation was _my_ brainchild."

"Then all I have to do to put an end to all of this is defeat you!" roared Kurosaki, jumping in and bringing his zanpaktou down in an overhead arc meant to cleave Kokutō in two. The invader raised his black sword up horizontally, intercepting the deadly blade, but the sheer power behind Ichigo's swing forced Kokutō to use both hands to hold onto his sword and the ground beneath cracked from the pressure.

"You're a lot stronger than I expected a lieutenant to be…" hissed Kokutō as he pushed back against Ichigo's blade, finally knocking it aside and then bringing his own sword back across diagonally in an attempt to open up the shinigami's chest.

_** *CLANG!***_

The sound of metal meeting metal filled the air once again and Kokutō narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"_Zangetsu_ is pretty fast for his size," Ichigo said. "Don't underestimate him…_or me!_"

He powered Kokutō's blade away again and slammed the hilt of his zanpaktou into the invader's face, shattering his nose in a splash of crimson.

"A lot stronger than a lieutenant should be…" Kokutō muttered, wiping the blood off with the back of his left hand. "You'll pay for that, boy; no more holding back."

"I'm the _Acting_-Lieutenant of Squad 9, Ichigo Kurosaki," the teen informed him, "and I _will_ defeat you!"

"Kurosaki…" said Kokutō, scowling. "You're stronger than Nnoitra told me you were."

"Nnoitra?" asked Ichigo in surprise. "How? He's dead! I _saw_ Kenpachi kill him!"

"We're _all_ dead, boy," Kokutō answered, attacking again and forcing Ichigo to go on the defensive. "People like _you_ sent us to Hell and now we're here for revenge and to claim our freedom. We're taking the Seireitei, Kurosaki, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop us."

"Don't count on-" began Ichigo, only to be cut off as Kokutō drove a vicious kick into his sternum and sent the teen flying backwards and crashing into a maintenance shed.

"I said that you were stronger than I expected, _not_ that you were strong enough to be a threat," Kokutō sneered. "Use your bankai if you want, but it won't make a difference; you'll be dead by dawn, Kurosaki, and the Seireitei will be _mine!_"


	11. First Blood

**First Blood**

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that all of Rangiku's Matsumoto usual drinking buddies had been otherwise occupied tonight; she only got _really_ hammered when she had company and tonight had found her alone, laying on the roof of a building at the far edge of Division 10, watching the stars over the Rukon twinkle as she slowly nursed a half-empty sake bottle.

The explosion in Division 12 had made her hop to her feet in an instant, sake bottle forgotten as it rolled off the roof and down some twenty-plus meters to the ground, shattering. From her vantage point, Rangiku could see shapes moving about the darkened streets of the Seireitei, ominous figures who should not have been there. From this height and with the shadow of night covering everything, it was impossible to tell who they were other than invaders.

She leapt down to a shorter building adjacent to her perch and began to run along the rooftop, looking for her captain or anyone else she could find. It didn't take her long to come across a pair of shinigami, pointing to the column of smoke coming from Division 12 and asking each other what the hell was going on in hushed, nervous tones.

"It's an invasion," she informed them, the sound of her voice startling the duo and making them jump. "Where's the captain?"

"I don't know," answered one of the pair, a young girl. "I haven't seen him since this afternoon."

"He's probably in the office," added the other shinigami, a male, helpfully. "Doing more paperwork or something."

"Right…" Rangiku said. "You two, get to the Division Gate and make sure it's guarded; we don't want any of these intruders in our division if we can help it."

"Yes, Ma'am!' they answered in unison, but Rangiku was already on the move again, heading for the office to find Captain Hitsugaya.

She wasn't worried about the captain's ability to take care of himself; despite his small stature and young age, Tōshirō Hitsugaya was already one of the more formidable captains within the Gotei 13 and would likely be the strongest next to Yamamoto himself in another century or two. No, there was no real reason to worry about the captain, but…

It was her duty to be at his side during conflict, to support him, but beyond that, she felt a special responsibility to the young shinigami; after all, she had been the one to find him out in the Rukon, the one to take him to the Soul Academy and endorse his application, and she had been the one pulling all the strings to get him moved into Squad 10 upon his unexpectedly-early graduation.

And then in the span of a decade, he had surpassed her to become Captain…

Tōshirō Hitsugaya was a prodigy, of that there was no doubt, and Rangiku felt a special attachment to him, as if she had a little brother to care for and tease. If anything were to happen to him, if she wasn't there to protect him…

Okay, so maybe she was _slightly_ worried about him.

If nothing else, she had to check in with the captain to see what his orders were, to see if he had any information on what was going and who the attackers were.

She could feel his spiritual pressure now and it was rising quickly, indicating that he was already engaged in battle, and Rangiku dug deep, pushing her body to run faster.

"Hang on, Captain! I'm almost-" she said, as if her words might somehow reach his ears from this distance, but she cut herself short as a scream sounded nearby.

"Damn it," she hissed, knowing she couldn't afford to ignore it. She took a sharp right, hoping across to another rooftop and tracing the sound back to its origin at the squad bathhouse.

A trio of young women in the squad were huddled against the exterior wall in fright, a red-haired woman in an ancient and tattered dress that had no doubt been quite elaborate centuries ago approaching them with a black, elegantly-designed sword, a deep groove running the length of the blade.

Behind the redhead lay the corpse of another soul reaper, a man who had apparently died trying to defend his comrades.

"Don't struggle," the invader urged the three terrified women. "I don't want to kill you yet if I can avoid it… I don't want to waste a single drop of your precious, precious blood."

No one had noticed Rangiku on the roof yet, which gave the lieutenant the element of surprise and she didn't intend to waste it. She raised a hand, pointing an open palm at the redhead who would dare terrorize _her_ subordinates, and began to channel her energy.

"Hadō #54, _Haien!_" she cried, forgoing the lengthy incantation in favor of speed as her spiritual energy gathered around her hand and assumed a purplish hue before she flung it at her target. Haien was a deceptively powerful spell, the "Abolishing Flame," and it would disintegrate the aggressor before she even knew what hit her…

…or at least, that's how it was _supposed_ to go, but the mystery woman spun around at the last instant and batted the deadly sphere of spiritual energy away with her sword.

It wasn't unprecedented for a spell, even a powerful one, to be deflected, but for this woman to so effortlessly do against a _lieutenant's_ kidō…

"I guess I can't take you lightly, can I?" asked Rangiku as the woman turned away from the three cornered shinigami to devote her full attention to the lieutenant.

"That was an ugly thing to do, sneaking up on me like that…" chided the woman. "Such an ugly act from such a pretty face…"

"Flattery isn't going to save you," said Rangiku, hopping down from the roof, "not after what you've done."

"Oh? These three suddenly seem insignificant, but _you_… You, my dear, are a _real_ prize. You will keep me young and beautiful for quite a while."

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Rangiku, drawing _Haineko_ from her scabbard slowly as the three younger shinigami took the opportunity to flee.

"Your blood, dear," explained the redhead, a grin that was both sinister and patronizing twisting her face into a hideous, devilish visage. "Blood is life. Blood is energy. Blood is youth. I discovered long ago that the secret to staying young and beautiful lies in blood."

"You think you're some kind of vampire?" asked the lieutenant in disgust. "You're sick."

"No, my dear, I do not _drink_ the blood; I _bathe_ in it," continued the redhead as she approached. "It seeps into my pores, rejuvenates my skin, and keeps me eternally beautiful. The more beautiful the source, the stronger the effect of the blood. Once upon a time, I was known as Erzsébet Bathory, the beautiful Countess of Blood, and I will be renowned once again."

"And that's what you were planning to do to those three? You were going to bathe in the blood of _my_ officers?"

"Yes, I was, but now…now I think I shall bathe in _your_ blood, my dear," answered the woman, raising her blade into an aggressive posture. "Do try not to spill too much of it when I kill you."

"Like I'd lose to a crazy old _hag_ like you," snarled Rangiku. "I'm the lieutenant of Squad 10, Rangiku Matsumoto, and I promise you that the only blood you'll be bathing in is your own!"

* * *

"I'll ask you _one_ more time; who are you and what do you want?"

The beaten and terrified soul on the ground before Captain Abarai winced under his tone, looking up at the shinigami fearfully as he tried to find his voice. To encourage him to speak faster, Renji raised _Zabimaru_ in a threatening fashion, seemingly preparing to execute the invader on the spot.

Only moments after the commotion in Division 12, Renji had come out of the office to find a half dozen strangers running about Division 5, engaging his subordinates in battle and the captain's response had been immediate; he had not bothered to shout any orders to his men, but he had instead drawn his zanpaktou and leapt into the fray, cutting down each intruder one by one.

And now there was only one left…

Well, one left of the original six that had been terrorizing the division; Renji had little doubt that there were plenty of other invaders scattered across the Seireitei at the moment, but for now, this lone survivor was the only one that mattered.

Renji didn't really intend to execute the soul, of course, but there was no need to actually _tell_ him that; fear was an excellent motivator for making people talk and Renji wanted answers.

He had a sinking suspicion of just _who_ the invaders were based off their ragged and burnt clothing and the way their bodies burst into flame when they died. The scent of brimstone left in their wake was perhaps the biggest and most obvious clue, but the captain didn't _want_ to believe it; there should be no way, absolutely _no way_, prisoners could ever escape Hell and invade the Seireitei.

He knew this, everything in the Seireitei knew this; it was a fact of nature, it was unchanging, eternal… Every Soul Reaper at the academy was taught the basics about Hell and shown images of the great guardians, the Kushanāda, and told that escape was impossible. Renji, like many officers, had even seen the gargantuan Kushanāda before on the other side of the gates when they opened up to claim a soul; the beasts were far larger than the academy had dared teach them, far more frightening, and since their numbers were endless, there should be no way for anyone to defeat them and escape the pits!

And yet the soul cowering before him seemed to indicate otherwise…

"We just want freedom!" the soul declared suddenly, his wide eyes focused on the imposing form of _Zabimaru's_ shikai form. "You don't know what it's _like_ down there!"

"Down where?" growled Renji, silently praying for an answer other than Hell.

"Hell, of course…" answered someone else as a polearm some two meters long came out of the shadows and skewered the captive sinner, incinerating his body in an instant. "Cowards do not deserve to share in our impending victory."

Renji eyed the newcomer, a tall, mustached Japanese man in ancient, battle-scarred samurai armor, as he sat the end of his polearm on the ground, holding it vertically as he regarded the captain.

"I have no respect for someone who would kill his own men," Renji growled. "Brings back memories that really _piss me off_."

"Who cares if the cannon fodder die? That _is_ their job, after all," answered the man, smirking at Renji's rising anger. "You are a Captain, aren't you? You should be aware of this fact; the subordinates are _always _expendable."

"Not to me, they're not," spat Renji bitterly.

"…you weren't actually going to _kill_ him, were you?" asked the other man slowly, laughing as he spoke. "You were just _bluffing_ instead of slaying your enemy… Is this all you Captains are? Do you all lack the _spine_ to kill your enemies?"

"If you really want to see an intent to kill, look again; I'm sure you'll find it in my blade!" hissed Renji, drawing his right foot back and assuming a battle stance as he raised _Zabimaru_.

"You bark loudly for a stray dog," taunted the warrior, taking a stance that nearly mirrored Renji's own as he raised his polearm. "I'll just have to put you down like the mangy beast you are."

"Don't underestimate just how dangerous a 'stray dog' can be!" bellowed Renji, flinging the whip-like blade of _Zabimaru_ forward.

The ancient warrior grinned and ducked under the first swing before coming up and spinning his polearm around his body defensively, effortlessly batting away the second and third strikes before the zanpaktou blade pulled back in and prepared for the next volley.

"Too slow, Captain!" declared the invader, suddenly lunging forward with his polearm, thrusting at Renji's face. Surprised, the captain was forced to backpeddle as thrust after thrust was thrown his way. He narrowly missed one aimed for his lower body, feeling the blade cut through the fabric of his pants and come dangerously close to slicing his skin.

He managed to bring _Zabimaru_ up and deflect a few shots, but his attacker was undeterred as he pressed forward. The captain narrowly deflected a shot aimed at his chest, pushing the tip of the polearm off to the side and belatedly noticing that there was a hook separate from the spear-like tip. The hook caught the sleeve of his white haori and the invader yanked his weapon back, trying to pull Renji off his feet, but the captain merely relaxed, spinning out of his haori and away.

For his part, the warrior pulled the weapon and attached haori back, examining the white fabric for a moment before flashing a devious grin at Renji.

He put on the haori, wearing it proudly over his ancient armor.

"You bastard…" growled Renji.

"This is the mark of a commander here, isn't it?" asked the man. "It's wasted on someone as pitiful as you."

"You'll pay for that, you pompous ass!"

"You will address me as Lord Nobunaga, dog, or _Captain _Nobunaga if you wish. If you want this back, you'll have to _take_ it from me…_if you can!_"

* * *

It hadn't taken terribly long for news to reach Rukia Kuchiki's ears that Ichigo Kurosaki had been stuck in the Squad 9 offices to do paperwork for the first time and the raven-haired Kuchiki had been oh-so-eager to go give him hell about it. What _had_ taken terribly long, however, was finishing up her own paperwork and duties in Squad 13 before she was able to slip away and make her way towards the undoubtedly frustrated strawberry-headed shinigami.

She'd just arrived at the Division 13 gates when everything suddenly went crazy, with explosions and screams echoing throughout the streets and fires rising up towards the night sky. Surprised by the sudden chaos around her, Rukia had hesitated in her quest; should she continue on towards Ichigo or should she report back to her own division? Torn between her personal desires and her duty, she had made for a tempting target to any would-be attacker in the night.

_ Too_ tempting.

Rukia had not seen the enemy coming, nor had she heard his footsteps or the subtle sound of his sword being drawn; what she _had_ heard, however, was mad laughter that spurred her to dodge reflexively, ducking and rolling away a moment before a blade slashed through where she had been standing.

The petite officer had her zanpaktou drawn and ready for battle before she had even finished rolling, but her attacker didn't press her…yet.

"Good move, good move!" he laughed, mismatched green and yellow eyes twinkling madly as he cackled. "Tuck and roll, tuck and roll! Won't save you again, no, it won't! No, it won't!"

"An arrancar?" asked Rukia in confusion, noting the telltale remains of a hollow mask encircling his right eye socket and stretching back along his head, fading away into a thick mane of wild black hair. "But there are no more arrancar! We killed them all in the war!"

"Dead, dead, _dead! _I died, yes, I did! Yes, I did! But I got better, yes, I did!" sang the creature, lunging for her and swinging his zanpaktou wildly.

Rukia raised _Sode no Shirayuki _to block the clumsy attack, but she quickly discovered that she was woefully outmatched in terms of strength as the force of the blow sent her flying back against the outer-most wall of Division 9, her tiny body leaving cracks in the stone.

"Weak, weak, _weak!_" laughed the arrancar as Rukia slid down the wall to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. "Kill you dead, kill you dead, going to _kill you dead!_"

Shaking, the injured shinigami slowly got to her feet, coughing as she glared daggers at the mad arrancar.

"Do you think that's enough to stop an officer of the Gotei 13?" Rukia asked, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "You're every bit as stupid as you are insane."

"_Not stupid!_" barked the arrancar angrily, stamping his feet and turning around in a circle like a child throwing a tantrum. "Not stupid, _not stupid!_ Kill you now, yes I will! Yes, I will!"

He ceased his tantrum abruptly and threw himself at Rukia, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he charged, and brought his zanpaktou down in a diagonal arc that would cleave the small shinigami in two.

Just what Rukia wanted.

"Dance, _Sode no Shirayuki!_" she cried, calling her blade into it's shikai form, the weapon becoming as white as pure now, a long ribbon emerging from the hilt. Quickly she stabbed the transformer blade into the ground four times in front of her before raising it up in a ready stance. "Tsugi no Mai, _Hakuren!_"

The crazed arrancar was nearly upon her now, but Rukia merely gave a smug smile as a burst of cold erupted forth from her raised blade and the four holes at her feet. An avalanche of snow and ice hurled itself at the charging hollowing, swallowing him up and flash-freezing him in a solid block of ice.

The blade of his zanpaktou had stopped mere inches away from cleaving her in two, but the important thing was that he had been stopped.

"Cooler heads will always prevail," Rukia said, preparing to return her zanpaktou to its scabbard.

The sound of cracking ice stopped her, her eyes going wide as she realized the beast trapped within wasn't dead. She raised her weapon again, had to finish him off before-

The ice exploded and the maniacal arrancar continued his deadly swing, forcing Rukia to forget about trying to finish him off and focus on narrowly dodging the blade, letting it hit the stone wall instead, shearing through the rock effortlessly.

"Pay for that, girl, yes, you will! Yes, you will!" he screeched. "Chew on your bones, chew on your bones, I will _chew on your bones!"_

* * *

The gates to Division 2 were in sight now, but Tatter de Malion's quest to get there and face his old nemesis had hit a small snag some fifteen meters away from the gate.

Well, twelve small snags, to be precise.

Tatter tightened his grip on the shirtfront of the last Damned escapee, the man's toes dangling inches off the ground. The Second Division Lieutenant looked around the area, observing the ash and dust of the other dozen men and women who had attacked him, as if they had been determined to deny him entry to the division. Propping the still-sealed zanpaktou in his right hand upon the same shoulder, he sighed deeply.

"I did tell you, didn't I?" The _togabito_, his jaw broken, merely whimpered in response. Tatter continued as though uninterrupted. "I told you _not_ to get in my way. I said that I wouldn't even bother tracking you down if you just moved and left me alone."

He brought the suffering man closer to his face. "You didn't listen though, did you? And now look; they're all gone, and you're all alone...with me."

The utterly bored look and indifferent tone of the shinigami's scarred face and voice seemed to frighten the Damned even more than seeing this lone man utterly tear his allies apart without taking a scratch, and he forced his jaw to move.

"M...mer...mercy...p-p-please..."

Tatter de Malion pursed his lips and looked to the side, appearing to give the matter some small measure of thought. "Mercy. Well. I've certainly heard that before...I suppose you aren't much of a threat anyway...but I did tell you that if you attacked me, I'd kill you all...and I don't want to be a liar...so..."

Using the grip he had on the man's ragged shirt, Tatter flung him a short ways straight up...and when the poor soul came back down, a booted foot sank into his gut, sending him flying as the shinigami side-kicked him. The Togabito didn't get too far, though.

The brick wall that formed the side of a small shop stopped him, and he exploded into cinders from the brutal impact. The lieutenant sheathed his blade and dusted off his hands.

"Request denied."

He turned to look at the gate, noting that his path was now unobstructed as he resumed his journey to find and kill that Quincy bastard a second time.

What disturbed him most as he paused just outside the gate was that no one else dared challenge him; the Damned in the area were no doubt fleeing to find less-dangerous targets, but where were the guards that were supposed to be posted at the gate? Squad protocol dictated that if the Seireitei should ever fall under attack that there was to be no less than four elite guards at the gate at any time and they were to deny entrance to absolutely _anyone_ other than Captain Sui-Feng.

Not even Yamamoto would be permitted entry without Sui-Feng escorting him.

But the gates were abandoned, no trace of the guards who should have been there.

If there had been any lingering doubt that _he_ was part of this invasion, it had now been laid to rest.

Tatter walked through the gate, keeping a wary eye on the shadows for an ambush, but not a soul moved in the night.

"Well, this doesn't feel good..." he murmured to himself, scanning the empty quad.

Nothing stirred.

Not a sound.

_** *Rattlequivershakeshake***_

Tatter patted the hilt of the longsword at his side. "I know, I know...he does love his theatrics."

Drawing his cloak tighter around him, de Malion stalked through the courtyard, long legs taking him across the ground silently. He did not bother moving from shadow to shadow, and neither did he hide his reiatsu.

The warped distortion in the air, the mark of the strange reiatsu signature of the togabito, was undisciplined, roiling in the air like greasy smoke, malevolent and dirty, not moving from its spot in the middle of the compound.

No, no point in hiding; it was definitely the Quincy and he was definitely waiting patiently for Tatter's arrival.

A few minutes passed as he traversed the Division, and finally he stood at the edge of the space that made up the center of the compound, where the HQ was located.

Five men were in the moonlit clearing.

Four were facing him, the missing guards, suspended in midair, seemingly pinned against an invisible wall by the long spikes of light piercing what was left of their burned-black corpses. The spikes themselves glowed with an angry, hateful red-orange, the clothing and flesh surrounding each charred ash.

The fifth man stood with his back to Tatter de Malion, shoulders straight and head cocked in an almost questioning manner. His clothes, a once-pristine white cloak and ensemble, were now shredded and torn, dirty and soot-blackened. Long black hair hung down to his waist, somehow defying the unkempt appearance of the clothing by being silky-smooth and free of snarls.

The Butcher stepped forward from the line that separated alley from causeway.

The man cocked his head to the other side, and nodded, as if affirming something to himself. A soft, high-pitched voice carried through the still night air, lifted by the heat still emanating from the corpses of the night guards.

"I was wondering...if it was truly you, Butcher." Hands, long, thin, pale hands, reached behind and clasped themselves at his back. "I had hoped, and it would seem the Goddess has seen fit to grant me my wish. Truly, a mark of her favor."

De Malion did not answer, eyes narrowing at the figure standing before the broiled remains of his subordinates. The intruder seemed a tad disheartened by this.

"Will you not answer? Oh, come now, de Malion...we've so much in common; it would be a pity to let our bond go to waste..."

Tatter shrugged his _tentoken_ away from his front, letting it fall to his back. "Why are you here?"

The man, back still turned, straightened as if surprised. "Why, Butcher...I thought I told you? As long as the Reich shall return, so shall I...and besides...I don't know how I could stay away from the greatest symbol of fear to the Quincies...after all..." At these words, the figure began to slowly turn.

Sable eyes with white pupils stared holes into their crimson and black counterparts. A black leather mask hid the lower half of the face, spiked steel studs traveling vertically up the center.

"I _am _your greatest admirer," Äs Nödt whispered. The sound was deafening on the still night air, and preceded the _whoosh! _of Hellfire as the corpses combusted, the orange tongues licking into the black sky and illuminating the clearing.

The man known as the Butcher of Quincies blinked against the heat and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Nice trick."

Äs Nödt shrugged carelessly. "Amazing the things you learn in the Pits. A useful replacement for the loss of my Fear Manipulation...not as satisfying, but..."

The Butcher nodded and drew his sword. "You should have stayed in Hell."

"If that is the case..." A motion of a black-nailed hand, and Äs Nödt was surrounded by countless angry-red spikes of reishi and Hellfire. "...then send me back, Tatter de Malion."

Gripping the hilt of his blade in one hand, de Malion pointed the tip toward the Damned escapee.

"Rattle..._Furui Hone_."

And, as the long blade-and-hoop ended bone chain materialized from the sword, the two men charged each other.

* * *

Time, according to conventional wisdom, healed all wounds. The passage of days, weeks, months, and even years could and would diminish feelings of hurt and anger, of rage and betrayal.

Conventional wisdom was _wrong_.

Neliel considered herself to be a very forgiving person normally, but the sight of Nnoitra standing before her with that arrogant and _lecherous_ grin brought back an avalanche of unpleasant memories that filled her core with pure and simple hatred. The sting of all the countless ways he had wronged her was still fresh in her mind and in her soul and the passage of the last few minutes certainly hadn't helped her forgive him for murdering her people.

No, time most certainly did _not_ heal all wounds.

Putting an end to the source of those wounds, however…

She dodged an overhead cleave from his massive zanpaktou and drilled him in the chest with a tight fist, driving him back a few steps and forcing the wind from his lungs, but nothing more.

If nothing else, time had apparently given Nnoitra time to truly get stronger.

"Is that it, Nel?" he asked, mocking her. "If that's all you got, you should just give up and _die_ right now!"

"I was trying to end this without expending too much energy, but I can see now that you have finally gained some strength," she told him coldly. "I don't have to hold back anymore."

"Yes, show me your true power so I can crush you completely!" exclaimed the taller arrancar eagerly, practically salivating.

"Your funeral."

A _sonido_-assisted swing of _Gamuza_ would sever his obnoxious head from his too-thin body with ease and put an end to his reign of terror once and for all; justice would be served and all of those who had fallen at Nnoitra's feet could finally, truly rest in peace…

…and he _blocked_ it.

It shouldn't have been possible, not with her speed and the size of his zanpaktou, but he had swung the massive weapon around impossibly fast and blocked her swing. He grinned again as he shoved her blade away and drove a foot into her midsection, knocking her back a few feet before launching himself at her and thrusting his zanpaktou forward.

As if such a simple attack would work against a lieutenant…

As if such a simple attack would work against the _tres_ Espada…

Neliel let the blade come, waiting until the last second to jump up and forward, placing her left hand on the long handle just below the blade before shoving off.

She also _grabbed_ the handle as she did so, dragging the weapon with her as she somersaulted over Nnoitra's head. The ex-_quinto_ Espada was jerked off his feet and into the air, his body following a similar trajectory to Nel's own and as the lieutenant landed, she used all of her considerable strength to slam the weapon and the foe that was still holding the other end of it into the ground roughly, throwing up enough dust and dirt to smother a nearby fire that had been slowly devouring an equipment shed.

Nnoitra, however, would not stay down so easily.

"You _bitch!_" he roared, hopping to his feet and swinging his weapon at the wall of the nearby equipment shed angrily, a weapon Nel was still holding on to. She was caught off guard by his sudden reaction and was yanked into the air, flying sideways towards the wall, but the former Espada recovered quickly, rolling in the air to hit the wall with her feet rather than her head and then launching herself at her opponent before he could respond with his weapon. The building, already weakened from the fire, collapsed under the strength of her kickoff, but the destruction was insignificant; the only thing that mattered at the moment was the fact that she had _Gamuza _poised and ready to run Nnoitra through and end him once and for all.

As Nel drew impossibly close to landing her lethal blow, Nnoitra actually managed to sidestep it and thrust his left hand forward towards her face like a spear.

The sudden dodge and counter threw her landing off slightly and Nel tumbled to the ground roughly before rolling back up to her feet. She turned to face Nnoitra slowly, a burning sensation in her left cheek.

"First blood," taunted Nnoitra, holding up his now-crimson hand for her to see as blood poured from the wound on Nel's cheek.

"Is it?" she asked, holding up _Gamuza_ and allowing him to see the red-coated tip. Nnoitra looked confused for a moment before looking down at himself, noting for the first time the shallow cut on the left side of his torso, slowly seeping blood and painting his tattered and soot-covered clothes red.

His was the lesser of the two injuries, they both knew that much, but all things considered, they were fairly evenly matched.

"You bitch…" Nnoitra growled, repeating himself as Neliel spat into the palm of her hand and smeared the saliva across her wounded cheek, letting the weak healing properties it contained slow the bleeding and begin to heal the torn flesh.

"I thought you'd be happy," she remarked, unfazed by his words. "You always wanted me to treat you like a worthy opponent."

"You're the one who's not worthy, Nel," he hissed. "You think you're strong? _Ha! _You're as weak as they come and before this fight is finished, I'll make you see just how pathetic you really are!"

* * *

Division 8 was secure.

It had taken some time, but Captain Kyōraku had finally dispatched the last of the intruders in his division and now had security details at the gate, the barracks, and the office. Casualties hadn't been tallied yet, but he had passed a few bodies of his subordinates laying in the street as he battled and he mourned their passing.

Still, even if his division was secure, he knew that others weren't.

Squad 8 had been lucky; all of the invaders, who he had immediately recognized as escaped Sinners by the scent of sulfur that clung to them, had been weak. They had been the foot soldiers, the cannon fodder, but other squads found themselves dealing with the generals of this little insurrection and Shunsui knew he had to help them.

After all, they had to be opponents of considerable strength if they had found a way to escape the pits.

"All I wanted was a quiet evening; a little sake, maybe a nap…" he sighed, sheathing his zanpaktou as he considered which division to check on first.

"Could you be _any_ lazier?" growled Lieutenant Nanao Ise from behind him, her tanto-like zanpaktou still drawn as she scanned the empty courtyard warily.

"Don't be like that, little Nanao," chided Shunsui. "It's perfectly natural to lament the loss of a good thing. Really, you should only be worried if I _didn't_ regret wasting a perfectly good evening for drinking on pointless fighting."

"And what about the people who lost their lives, Captain? The people who are _still_ losing their lives elsewhere in the city?"

"Do you really think I don't care about them?" he asked softly, his tone hurt. Nanao looked away in shame.

"I…I know you do, Captain, but to be making jokes at a time like this…"

"Sometimes a little levity is needed to keep your sanity, Nanao; you'll learn that one day when you get older," said Shunsui, turning to face his lieutenant and giving her a comforting smile. "I mourn the loss of every single person who dies for the Gotei 13, wherever and whoever they are, but wallowing in grief isn't healthy for the living and it keeps the dead from resting in peace."

"I understand, Captain," said Nanao, sounding apologetic for having doubted him.

"I know you do," he said, patting her on the head gently. "Anyway, I need to get going; Yama-jii will be pretty mad if I don't check in on his squad for him. You can handle things here for me, can't you?"

"Of course, Captain!" said Nanao, saluting sharply. "I won't let anyone else breach our security."

"That's my girl," chuckled Shunsui. "Be careful, Nanao."

"And you, Captain," she replied softly, to which he only tiled his hat towards her with a brief nod and a wink before vanishing, going into his _shunpo_ as he headed for Division 1 and the invaders that lay beyond its gates.

Shunsui stretched out with his senses to gauge how the other captains and lieutenants were doing elsewhere in the Seireitei as he ran, confirming his suspicions that the others hadn't been quite as lucky as he had been; young Tōshirō was engaged with a particularly dangerous opponent, as was Lieutenant Matsumoto, Renji had had found someone challenging, and sweet Nel was clearly locked in a deadly battle against someone powerful. He could sense Anrak over in Division 12, no doubt trying to get communications up and running again, and for the moment, there was nothing particularly threatening in his vicinity.

Kenpachi, meanwhile, was displaying his trademark recklessness as he merrily laid waste to his own division while battling with his newfound "friend."

And Ichigo, of course, appeared to have found the strongest of the strong and was engaging them over in Division 9.

Typical.

Well, at least that meant Shunsui shouldn't have anyone particularly powerful to fight for once…

Right?

"As if I would be so lucky," he said to himself with a sigh as he neared the Division 1 gates.

No, he could sense someone inside Yama-jii's office, someone dangerous and powerful, perhaps on the same level as Ichigo's opponent, and Shunsui was currently the only one capable of standing against him.

Also typical.

He made a mental note that he was a couple of centuries overdue for a long vacation after this was finished; somewhere nice and peaceful, somewhere in the world of the living…

Tahiti, maybe?

"It's a magical place," he mused, wondering if he could somehow convince someone like Rangiku to go with him, perhaps model a swimsuit for him.

Well, he could plan his trip and find a friend to enjoy it with later; right now, he had a togabito to find and destroy.

Chōjirō Sasakibe was the lieutenant of Squad 1 and he was a formidable man in his own right; hell, he could have been a captain, but he had repeatedly refused promotion in order to serve Yamamoto. Chōjirō would fight tooth and nail to protect the division in Yamamoto's absence, but his spiritual pressure had dropped to almost nothing several minutes ago after an all-too-brief flare up.

Whoever was lurking in Division 1 had taken the lieutenant out quickly, far too quickly for Shunsui's liking.

The good news was that he could still feel Chōjirō's spiritual pressure, however weak it was; it meant he was still alive, if only barely.

Many of the other shinigami in the squad hadn't been as fortunate.

There was a trail of bodies leading all the way from the front gate to Yamamoto's office, with blood spatters everywhere, though very little physical destruction. Lieutenant Sasakibe lay just outside the office, his clothing charred with electrical burns that looked suspiciously like it had been done by his own bankai. Shunsui frowned at that, confused, as he knelt and checked the lieutenant's pulse.

Steady, but he wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

He stood up slowly, eyeing the door to Yamamoto's office with a sense of dread.

"Well, might as well get this over with, right, Chōjirō?"

Chōjirō didn't answer.

"Enjoy your nap, friend; you've earned it," said Shunsui, giving a slight tilt of his hat as a sign of respect for the wounded man. "I'll try not to wake you."

Captain Kyōraku strode over to the door and slid it open, stepping inside without preamble. He wasn't quite sure what he expected to see other than a mess, that the savage togabito had been destroying Yamamoto's office…

…except everything looked pristine, intact, and perfectly normal.

Well, perfectly normal aside from the dirty, scraggly-haired man standing over by the bookshelf, casually inspecting the few pictures Yamamoto kept. His clothing was ragged and dirty, very primitive and ancient, and he wore a sword on his hip, Chōjirō's sword, to be exact.

The togabito turned to look at Shunsui, a framed photograph in his hand. He regarded the captain carefully before looking down at the picture, then back at Shunsui.

"I see…" said the man finally. "You're the favorite son, aren't you?"

"Beg your pardon?" asked Shunsui, confused.

"There are several pictures of you here, you and this other guy with white hair… I take it you two are Yamamoto's favorite 'children.'"

"Jūshirō Ukitake," said Shunsui solemnly. "He and I were Yama-jii's pupils many centuries ago. We didn't always agree with him, but I suppose he did have a certain fondness for us."

"You speak using a past tense…" observed the togabito, gently setting the picture back on the bookshelf. "Why?"

"Ju died in the war," answered the captain.

"So you're all the old man has left…" mused the togabito, walking around to sit on Yamamoto's desk, looking Shunsui over again. "I hate favoritism… My own brother was always favored over me… You don't _know_ what it feels like to always be in someone else's shadow."

"No, I don't," Shunsui agreed, "but I try to remember that I'm no better than anyone else. I like to stay humble. Ju was the same way; he believed that everyone should be treated equally."

"Equality doesn't exist," spat the man. "It's a lie."

"It's only a lie if we allow it to be," countered Kyōraku.

"And now you're even starting to sound like my Holier-than-Thou brother…" growled the togabito, standing up suddenly.

"Sounds like your brother is a good man."

"_Was_ a good man," corrected the togabito. "I killed him."

"And now you want to kill me, is that it?" asked Shunsui, placing a hand on the hilt of his still-sheathed zanpaktou. The togabito looked at him, clearly mulling it over in his head.

"No," he said finally. "Not today."

"Oh?" asked Shunsui, never removing his hand.

"I'm in a good mood," explained the Damned. "I thought I'd never see anything outside the pit again, but here I am… I'm feeling generous; if you want to flee the Seireitei, I won't stop you."

"I appreciate the offer, but I think you know what my answer is," said Shunsui, a note of honest apology in his voice as he slowly drew his zanpaktou.

"The same as every other fool who dared stand in my way," sighed the togabito. "You're all too damn stubborn for your own good. You're ruining my good mood."

"Sorry," apologized Shunsui again. "I'll extend you a similar courtesy, though; if you surrender, I will make sure you're treated fairly."

"And why would _I_ surrender?" growled the man. "Captain or not, you can no more stop me than that lieutenant could."

"Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree about that," shrugged Shunsui.

The togabito gave a smirk that was nothing short of arrogant and beckoned the captain to come and attack, holding his arms out wide invitingly.

"Then by all means, Captain, take your best shot."

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

_**Author's Note:** __ Tatter's segment here was largely written by Ziggy himself since it's his character; 99.83799% of that piece is his and should be credited as such. _


	12. One More Soul

**One More Soul**

Togabito, it seemed, were slow learners.

With any _normal _opponent, the sight of a shinigami captain would send them fleeing in the opposite direction unless they were someone of considerable strength in their own right. Those with "average" strength or that were only slightly above average typically had a sense of self-preservation that would kick in after seeing several of their comrades effortlessly slain by the same individual.

Then again, maybe they were simply that damn determined to win.

There were over a dozen small piles of ash surrounding the remains of the communications center now, a testament to either the stupidity or the determination of the invaders.

Their target had been the cobbled-together tower that would hopefully restore communication with the forces deployed to the world of the living, but Captain Anrak Ushii had been equally determined not to let a single soul near the precious piece of equipment.

"How much longer, Rin?" he asked, anxious to leave Division 12 and check in on his own Squad; it had not been lost on him that while he had been dealing with the simple grunts of the invasion, the significantly more dangerous commanders were now engaging officers throughout the Seireitei: Hitsugaya, Rangiku, Shunsui, Kurosaki, Renji, Kenpachi, Sui-Feng…

Even his own lieutenant was facing someone powerful enough to keep pace with her.

"Working on it," answered Rin Tsubokura, still busy adjusting the electronic innards of the hastily-repaired tower. "I'm not even sure about this… The radio towers are all too damaged to repair with the tools I have, but maybe I can tweak this radar dish to do the job."

"What are the chances it'll work?"

"Well… Not great, but not _that_ bad, either," answered Rin evasively, closing a control panel and buttoning it up. "This isn't really my specialty… I monitor screens and transmissions, but I've never actually had to _build_ the equipment before."

A light breeze kicked up, scattering the ash piles of fallen togabito to the winds and fanning the flames from the nearby piles of debris that were burning. Anrak concentrated his _reiatsu_ on the piles nearest to the storage shed, using his spiritual pressure to influence them. The flickering orange and red flames began to darken, becoming black and shadowy before slowly winding down and disappearing, leaving nothing but faintly glowing embers in their wake.

"I think I'm just about…" Rin said, adjusting one last screw, "done!"

"Good," Anrak nodded. "Let's hope this works."

Rin rushed over to the storage shed, dragging cables from the hastily-assembled tower with him. He spent a few moments hooking the cables up to the old terminal, biting his lip nervously as he worked while Anrak stood at the door, back to Rin as he kept an eye out for more invaders intent on keeping communications down.

"Okay, here goes nothing…" the technician muttered, powering up the terminal. Anrak didn't turn around to watch him, noting that the tower spit forth a shower of sparks as Rin activated the contraption. The damaged radar dish began to rotate slowly, sending more sparks cascading to the ground, but nothing could be heard from the terminal in the shed.

And then, miraculously, there was a burst of static.

"It's working!" Rin exclaimed excitedly. "I did it, I really did it!"

"Good work, Rin," the captain commended him. "Now recall Yamamoto and Kuchiki's scout team."

"On it!" acknowledged Rin, grabbing the mic. "Seireitei to Head-Captain Yamamoto, please respond!"

Nothing but static.

Anrak looked over his shoulder at Rin, who was looking decidedly _less_ excited now.

"Yamamoto, _please_ respond! We have an urgent situation!" Rin tried again.

Still nothing.

"Maybe he has his radio turned off," suggested Anrak. "Try Kuchiki's team."

"Right…" Rin said, nodding nervously as he switched frequencies. "That's got to be it, right? Okay… Seireitei to Captain Kuchiki, _please _respond! Anyone from Captain Kuchiki's scout team, please answer!"

More static, then…

"Base, _please_ respond! The Gates of Hell are open and the Kushanāda are invading! Requesting _immediate _reinforcements!" came the distorted voice of Lieutenant Masamune.

"Oh, God…" breathed Rin, taking in the new information.

"They're not invading," Anrak growled, "they're looking for the escaped prisoners… Damn it!"

"I'll tell them," said Rin, keying up the mic again. "Lieutenant, the Kushanāda are not invading; repeat, the Kushanāda are _not_ invading! They are looking for escaped prisoners who are currently attacking the Seireitei!"

"Anyone, _please_ respond!" came Enjeru's voice over the radio again.

"It's no use; radio must still be down," said someone else in the background, possibly Hisagi.

"_We hear you!_" Rin practically yelled into the mic. "Lieutenant, _please_ respond! This is an emergency!"

"We can hear them, but they can't hear us," sighed Anrak, disappointed. "Looks like we can receive transmissions, but not send them."

"I can't do anything else," Rin said mournfully as he sat the mic down, "not with these tools. I'm sorry, Captain…I failed."

"You did the best you could with what you had available while under threat of death," Anrak pointed out. "That's not a failure, Rin. You did your job, now it's time for me to go do mine; I'll escort you to a safer location and then I'm going to kill every last one of the bastards."

"No…" said Rin slowly. "I can't leave here… I know it's dangerous, but… It just feels like someone should be monitoring the situation in the human world as best we can. I mean, the Kushanāda in the world of the living is unprecedented and maybe when things are settled here, we'll be able to send help to the scout team."

"Are you sure?" asked Anrak dubiously. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here defenseless."

"I'll shut the door and lock it," said Rin. "I know that won't stop anyone if they really want in here, but as long as they think this is an empty shed, I should be okay, right? They might destroy the tower again, but I think I'll be safe."

"Unless they follow the cables from the tower back to the shed…" Anrak pointed out, moving away from the door and back out into the open. He looked about and began grabbing piles of debris, moving them, adjusting them, doing his best to hide the cables as Rin stood in the doorway watching.

"Thank you, Captain," said Rin, offering a weak smile. "I'm sorry I let you down-"

"Stop that," Anrak ordered, ushering him back into the shed. "You didn't let anyone down; you did your best and you should be proud of that. Now lock this door behind me and don't open it again unless you _know_ who's on the other side."

"I understand, Captain. Good luck out there," Rin said as Anrak pulled the door shut and disappeared into the night.

The technician looked about the shed, sighing as he pulled a box over to use as a makeshift chair at the radio terminal. He stared at the blank radar screen for a long minute before shrugging and turning it on to see if it even worked. The screen glowed for a second before becoming so pixilated that it was impossible to make out any details. Rin grabbed the knobs on either side of the screen and began turning them slowly, trying to adjust the image to something readable. It took a few moments, but a fuzzy overlay of Karakura Town finally emerged.

Pixilated red and green dots could be seen moving about the screen, occasionally interrupted by a burst of static that garbled the reception into something unreadable. He sighed, reaching for the mic again and keying it up.

"If anyone can hear this transmission, _please _respond!" he pleaded. "The Seireitei is under attack!"

Static was his only answer.

* * *

Generally, if someone invites you to hit them, it's probably a good idea to _not_ hit them.

This little pearl of wisdom was not lost on Shunsui Kyōraku, but it had been too tempting of an opportunity to pass up and now he was picking himself up off the ground outside the office, a massive hole in the wall where he had exited the building.

The togabito hadn't actually hit him back, he knew that much; the moment the captain's sidekick made contact with the other man's chest, his own chest exploded in pain and sent him flying across the room, through the wall and outside, tumbling across the ground roughly

The Damned, however, remained completely unaffected and was casually strolling out the gaping hole in the wall towards the downed captain.

"You probably should have used your sword, Captain," suggested the togabito helpfully. "You might have killed me if you had. You can try again, if you want."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" asked Shunsui, finally getting back to his feet. "I have to admit, that's one useful power."

"Oh?" asked the man, drawing the sword from his side.

"I'm only _half_ as dumb as I look, actually," said Kyōraku with a wry smile before taking a serious tone once again. "You can somehow reflect all damage back at your attacker; you don't feel anything that gets thrown at you."

"This would have been easier if you had just used your zanpaktou…" said the togabito. "So much easier when fools just kill themselves for me."

"Who _are_ you?" asked Shunsui. "I've never seen such a power before."

"I'm Cain," answered the man, darting forward and attacking the shinigami with the zanpaktou he'd stolen from Lieutenant Sasakibe. "I'm the first, the original killer. In the pits, they called me The Old One."

"Cain, _the_ Cain? I suppose I should be honored," said Shunsui, deflecting the wild strike aimed at his head.

"Don't be honored; just be quiet and _die_," snarled The Old One. "I don't want to do any more damage to my new home than I have to."

"Sorry, but you can't stay here," said Shunsui, reflexively making a quick slash at Cain's wrist to disarm him and just barely stopping himself before the blade made contact. The Damned watched, grinning darkly as Shunsui withdrew his sword and took a step back defensively.

"Tell me, Captain; how do you plan on defeating me if you can't actually _hurt_ me?"

* * *

Ten minutes ago, the hulking meathead standing across from her grinning arrogantly would have been classified simply as a "minor inconvenience" that could be dealt with in a matter of seconds. By all rights, anyone or anything that _dared_ challenge a master assassin, least of all the very commander of the Stealth Force herself, should be quickly and efficiently put down like a wild beast and then promptly forgotten about.

That was ten minutes ago.

_ Now_, however, Sui-Feng was upgrading Reiger Moncrief's status to "Priority Alpha" target as he continued to mock her.

"That all you got, little girl? I ain't felt a thing!" he taunted, his hideous face distorted by a hearty laugh at her expense. "That little pin you got ain't gonna do nothing' against me!"

She hated to admit it, but he seemed to be right; so far, using _Suzumebachi_ against him had been about as effective as stabbing a tank with a butter knife and it was really starting to piss the petite captain off.

His skin seemed completely impenetrable, far stronger than the supposed "iron skin" of any of the arrancar from the war, and impenetrable skin made it impossible for _Suzumebachi_ to deliver her death mark.

"You confused, ain't you?" asked the arrancar, grinning at her irritation. "Used to be a boxer, toughest there ever was! Couldn't no man hurt me in the ring! I was a champion, til the mob told me to take a dive an' I told them to go fuck themselves! Turned out my thick skin couldn't stop bullets."

"Spare me the sob story," spat Sui-Feng. "You're not invincible."

Moncrief darted forward with a speed the defied his size, aiming a massive fist for Sui-Feng, but the ninja was too nimble and dodged out of the way as the powerful attack slammed into the ground leaving a crater nearly a meter wide.

"Wasn't back then, but I am now," said Moncrief, withdrawing his fist from the ground. "I been down in the pits a long time and I done learned how to get even _stronger_. Ain't no bullet gonna stop me again, or no fist, or no foot, or no puny little needle!"

"What about a really _big_ bullet?" asked the captain with a devilish smirk.

"Ain't gonna work, little girl!" scoffed Moncrief.

"Let's find out, shall we? _Bankai!_"

* * *

Ichigo circled his opponent warily, the left sleeve of his black shihakushō missing as blood lazily streamed down his arm from a wound on his shoulder. The togabito, meanwhile, was chuckling about it as he held up his black sword and allowed Ichigo to see the crimson fluid running along its blade.

"I told you, didn't I?" asked Kokutō. "Use your bankai. It won't make any difference, but you should use it, anyway. I will crush you and once you're out of the way, I'll _personally_ round up all of your little shinigami friends and kill them all!"

"Like hell you will!" snapped Ichigo defensively. "You won't touch a single one of them!"

The teen raised his arms, holding _Zangetsu_ horizontally, tip pointing at Kokutō as he gathered up his spiritual pressure.

"I won't let you hurt _anyone!_" he declared. "I won't let you take the Seireitei! I won't let you win! _Bankai!_"

Kurosaki's already-immense _reiatsu_ suddenly increased exponentially, explosively, before abruptly collapsing inward and compressing itself into his very body. Bones creaked and muscled screamed under the strain, but it was a familiar sensation, one he'd learned to adapt to long ago; within seconds, there was no pain, but rather a comforting feeling, one of strength and security, of certainty and-

Kokutō rushed him before the dust had even settled, surprising the teen with his sudden attack, forcing Ichigo to take a step back and raise the slender form of _Tensa Zangetsu_ up in a blocking motion. He staved off the murderous blade, but Kokutō delivered a thunderous kick into his midsection that sent the teen hurtling backwards, tumbling across the ground for ten meters, then twenty, and then thirty before he crashed into the Squad 9 mess hall, taking out a large section of wall and two supporting beams inside.

Ichigo picked himself up, coughing and spitting up trace amounts of blood as he glared daggers at Kokutō, who was still standing outside and grinning arrogantly.

"Damn you," hissed Ichigo, shoving a broken table out of his way as he got back to his feet.

"I told you it wouldn't make a difference," Kokutō gloated. "Don't you get it, boy? You are _nothing_ to me!"

"Let's see what you think about _this_!" snapped Ichigo, covering his face with his left hand, shadows swirling around his fingers as his _reiatsu_ suddenly became denser and heavier, more aggressive. He jerked his hand away as the shadows coalesced to form a white, bone-like mask with crimson markings and his eyes, his brown eyes, turned a decidedly-inhuman amber.

"A hollow mask?" asked Kokutō, surprised. "Nnoitra didn't mention this…"

"This fight ends _now!_" roared Ichigo, his voice distorted as he rushed forward out of the mess hall, hefting his zanpaktou to skewer the Damned standing before him.

"You're right," agreed Kokutō, rushing forward to meet him with impossible speed, shifting his sword to his left hand. "Die, boy!"

Ichigo thrust his zanpaktou forward with lightning speed, but Kokutō deftly managed to avoid the slender blade, letting it sail right past him as he clamped his right hand on Ichigo's mask-covered face. An ominous red glow could be seen seeping through his fingers and Kokutō just grinned broader.

"Goodbye, brat!" he laughed, firing the compressed energy pointblank into the shinigami face.

The energy slammed into him with enough force to knock him free of Kokutō's grasp, but it plowed him back into the damaged building with tremendous force, obliterating the rest of the already-damaged wall and taking three more support columns along the way. The building collapsed inward, falling on top of Kurosaki's body and burying him beneath a pile of debris as Kokutō continued laughing.

"I've waited too long for this!" Kokutō declared. "I'm free, finally _free_ and I can do whatever I want! This city is _mine!_"

The pile of rubble began to move, shifting about on its own accord, and Kokutō stopped his laughter as he regarded the phenomena curiously.

"I…told you…I won't…allow it," panted Ichigo Kurosaki, digging himself out of the rubble slowly and pulling himself to his feet. His mask was gone and his face was bloodied, but the irritating boy still drew breath.

"Well, thanks to that mask of yours, you got to keep your head; lucky you," sneered Kokutō.

"If that's all you've got, you might want to give up now," said Ichigo, giving a cocky, bloodstained grin. "That didn't hurt at all."

"You're missing an eyebrow," observed Kokutō. "What's it going to take for you to understand that you _can't_ beat me?"

"I'm a slow learner," admitted Ichigo, raising _Tensa Zangetsu_ up and assuming a ready stance.

"So I can see, boy, so I can see…"

* * *

Tōshirō Hitsugaya rolled his left shoulder, trying to adjust to the pain of having Cao's second blade cut deep into his shoulder, growling as blood continued to seep from the wound. Their first couple of exchanges had been relatively even, but that last one had been decidedly-lopsided in the togabito's favor and Hitsugaya knew that the Damned was adapting to his movements.

Dangerous was the man who could learn his opponent's movements and patterns after only a few attacks.

"You haven't lost your will to fight, have you?" asked Cao. "Surely the wound is not _that_ deep, Captain."

"Hardly," stated the young captain. "I was just considering how best to finish this quickly and move on to the next fight."

"I see…" nodded Cao. "And have you found an answer?"

"Indeed," answered the younger man. "Reign over the Frosted Heavens, _Hyōrinmaru!_"

A torrent of water and ice erupted forth from the long blade of Hyōrinmaru, snaking its way up towards the heavens as clouds began to form, a few errant flakes of snow falling to the ground. The gushing, icy water began to take a more defined shape, a graceful Eastern dragon with frozen scales and piercing red eyes. The ice dragon coiled around its young master and gave a bellowing roar as the clouds overhead continued to roll, as if the very heavens themselves trembled in fear.

"_Magnificent!_" applauded Cao. "Very impressive! _This_ is what I expected of a captain-class shinigami!"

"Thank you," stated Hitsugaya coolly, "but perhaps you should save your praise for the _real_ show…"

"Oh?" asked the togabito. "Well then, young Captain, let us see what your dragon can do."

Hitsugaya didn't need to be asked twice, giving a battle cry as he raised his blade and slashed, commanding the dragon to lunge forward towards its target, mouth open as it spewed countless gallons of freezing water at the togabito, water that would freeze him solid upon contact and bring an end to the fight.

Cao didn't flinch, instead stepping forward to meet the oncoming attack with all the poise and grace of a master martial artist, becoming a whirling dervish of steel as he cleaved at the spray of icy death. It was pointless, a futile gesture…

…except that it _wasn't_ futile.

Every strike of his broadswords deflected a sizeable chunk of water and ice and while the very blades of his weapons should have been freezing up and becoming brittle, they remained perfectly intact, albeit with a reddish hue to them.

"So, _that's_ your trick," said Hitsugaya softly, withdrawing the ice dragon. "Those swords are not normal… They carry a fragment of hellfire in them and that's how you can stand against _Hyōrinmaru_."

"Perceptive, Captain." praised Cao. "Some prisoners commit crimes that warrant them being chained down in the pits and subjected to the mercy of the rest of Hell. These chains are absolutely unbreakable, but they can be melted down and molded into other shapes courtesy of the magma pools. After dealing with the poor soul who was originally chained up, I had to break up the rock the chains were attached to and _drag_ them to the pools in order to melt them into these."

"You tortured an innocent soul just to take his chains and forge them into weapons?" asked Hitsugaya, mortified by the callousness.

"Please, Captain; there are no 'innocent' souls in Hell. Like the rest of us, he did something despicable with his life and was sentenced to the pits. I don't know what he did to warrant being chained up and left for the amusement of the rest of us and neither do I particularly _care_; he served his purpose."

"Maybe _you'll_ be the one chained up after I send you back to Hell!" snarled the captain, urging _Hyōrinmaru_ forward again.

"I do not intend on ever going back to the pits," Cao said calmly as the serpentine dragon encircled him.

"I'm not giving you a choice in the matter!" Hitsugaya declared as the coils of _Hyōrinmaru _squeezed the togabito. The head of the great dragon looked skyward towards the clouds before giving a terrifying roar and plunging down upon the victim trapped in his icy grip.

As the dragon's head plowed into Cao and its own coiled body, the sub-zero water flash froze, becoming a solid chunk of ice with the togabito trapped in the middle helplessly.

"You're now as helpless as your chained victim was," said Hitsugaya, strolling forward towards the block of ice. "But I won't torture you; I'll make this quick-"

The ice shattered, cutting the captain short as the togabito erupted forth, broadswords glowing hotter than before. The tiny captain hopped backwards, dodging the flying ice shards and a quick slash of Cao's main hand blade.

"Thank you, Captain; that was quite refreshing," said Cao pleasantly. "After centuries in the pits, I needed that."

A massive, earth-shaking explosion, easily ten times more powerful than the one that had rocked the Seireitei earlier, sounded elsewhere in the city. Hitsugaya turned his head slightly towards the origin, quickly recognizing it as having been from Sui-Feng's bankai as pieces of debris came raining down even this far away.

"Friend of yours?" asked Cao as the icy dragon reformed around the young captain.

"Not really," he answered testily, "but if she felt the need to use her bankai…"

"Then you should probably use yours…" Cao finished. "It _is_ your only hope, after all."

"Be careful what you ask for," Hitsugaya warned, taking a step back as _Hyōrinmaru _roared at the heavens in anticipation. "_Bankai!_"

* * *

Under normal circumstances, Sui-Feng would meticulously prepare before using her bankai by finding something sturdy and tying herself to it, using it as an anchor to keep her small, light body from being blown away by the shockwave caused by the explosion.

Then again, under _normal_ circumstances, she wouldn't use her damned bankai at all.

All Hollow's Eve, of course, was anything _but_ normal.

The petite captain pried herself out of the wall she had been blasted back into, coughing up black smoke as she extracted herself and fell to the ground roughly, debris continuing to fall down all around her. She allowed _Suzumebachi_ to return to her shikai state as she pushed herself up to her feet, smirking at the cloud of smoke and debris that had once been the 'invincible' Reiger Moncrief.

"Invincible my ass," snorted Sui-Feng.

If she had a silver piece for every time some ignorant fool erroneously claimed to be invincible, she'd have been richer than the Kuchiki clan.

A large chunk of Division 12 had been flattened by the explosion ,as well as a small part of Division 11, but she couldn't make herself care; it had been a necessary evil to end the fight.

Besides, knowing Kenpachi, he would level the rest of Division 11 himself before his fight was through.

She could sense the battles going on elsewhere in the Seireitei and briefly wondered where she should go first, but her musings were cut short as the dark-skinned meathead known as Reiger Moncrief erupted forth from the swirling cloud of smoke and dust, his massive right fist cocked back for a blow that would tear Sui-Feng's head off.

"What the hell?" snarled Sui-Feng, narrowly dodging the blow.

"I _told_ you I was invincible," said Moncrief, swinging at her again, "but that _almost_ hurt!"

"Next time, I'll make sure there's no 'almost' to it," promised Sui-Feng, jumping away from a third angry punch. She was fast enough to dodge the impact, but not quite fast enough to escape entirely as Moncrief's massive hand closed around her left ankle.

"Ain't going to _be_ a next time, little girl!" he roared, slamming her body down into the ground roughly. "Playtime is over!"

Sui-Feng felt pain explode all over her body as she impacted the unforgiving ground, the bones in her left foot cracking under the strain of Moncrief's monstrous grip. The togabito raised her up and slammed her down again, laughing cruelly as the captain flailed about helplessly. He slammed her down with thunderous impact a third time and the small captain went still, her body limp.

"You dead already, little girl?" he sneered, maintaining his grip on her ankle as he raised her up to inspect. He raised his arm high, letting her body dangle, her face a few inches from his own as he inspected the corpse.

Sui-Feng snapped her eyes opened suddenly and shoved a hand in front of Reiger's face.

"Hadō #32, _Ōkasen!_" she cried, spiritual energy quickly condensing into her hand before firing outward as a narrow, yellow burst right into the togabito's eyes.

"Shit!" he roared, releasing his grip on her and stumbling backwards, covering his face with his hands. "You _bitch!_"

Sui-Feng dropped back to the ground and hopped back, putting some distance between her and the temporarily-blinded Damned; with any _normal_ opponent, that blast would have scorched their face off but for Moncrief the only noticeable effect would be the painfully-bright flash right in his eyes.

Still, it served its purpose and forced him to drop her.

"I'm going to crush your skull, girl!" he bellowed in rage, thrashing about blindly. "This ain't gonna stop me for long!"

"But this might," hissed Sui-Feng, raising an open palm towards her blinded victim. "Bakudō #63, _Sajō Sabaku!_"

Streams of yellow energy began to encircle the torso of the still-raging Moncrief and as Sui-Feng closed her hand into a fist, the energy took on the form of a golden chain, ensnaring the togabito and tightening itself around his upper body, immobilizing his dangerous arms.

"Not so dangerous now, are you?" smirked Sui-Feng as Reiger turned towards her voice, blinking slowly.

"I can see you again, little girl," he said.

"Doesn't matter if you can't touch me," she informed him.

"Who says I can't?" demanded Moncrief, visibly struggling against the chains.

"It's no use, fool," she informed him. "Physical strength isn't enough to…"

She trailed off as the sound of the chains groaning and creaking filled her ears, watching in horror as the links began to stretch.

"No, that's impossible…" she breathed.

"I done _told_ you, girl, I'm _unstoppable!_" declared the togabito, roaring as he broke free of the supposedly-unbreakable chains in a frightening show of strength. Unhindered, Moncrief lunged for Sui-Feng with a speed that was impressive considering his size, reaching for the captain's head. Stunned at the fact he broke free of an unbreakable spell, she hesitated a second in her dodge and just barely moved out of the way.

All the same, he caught one of her long braids, yanking it painfully and jerking the captain off her feet. Grimacing, Sui-Feng quickly reached up and used _Suzumebachi_ to sever the braid, cutting her hair free of Reiger's grasp. She scampered back away from him again as he dropped the long braid of hair, scowling.

Unstoppable, invincible…

She refused to believe any of his claims; _nothing_ was invincible and as Reiger himself had proven, nothing was unbreakable.

She just had to find a big enough hammer to do the job before he could smash the life out of her. She narrowed her eyes bitterly.

"Easier said than done…"

* * *

Anrak stood at the entrance to his division, staring at the damaged gates and the bodies of the guards lying scattered about. He tightened his grip on his zanpaktou, trying to control the rage bubbling up in his heart. Beyond the gates lay more bodies and several buildings burning, and somewhere among the chaos was his lieutenant, fighting someone of considerable strength.

He had little doubt there were more togabito crawling about the division, lurking in the shadows to prey on hapless shinigami, waiting to prey on his people…

No more.

He wouldn't allow it.

"Sing, _Kage Shitsukoi_," he commanded as he stepped across the threshold and into Division 13. Inky black shadows rolled their way down the blade slowly, seemingly originating from the hilt, transforming the silvery blade into onyx steel as they went, twisting the shape of the katana into something more wicked and intimidating.

Kagi's soft voice flooded the shinigami's mind with a haunting melody as he made his way through the war zone, a sliver of moonlight piercing through the clouds and illuminating the scene more thoroughly.

_Enough with light,_  
_Tell me one more time,_  
_My blood, your life;_  
_Is this you inside?_

He ignored her words as he stretched out with his _reiatsu_, willing it to influence the nearby flames and turn them black, placing them under his control. He wasn't sure how much of an area he could affect, but he hoped he could control every tongue of flame in the division and will it to dwindle down into nothingness.

_Death to the living,_  
_The flame has no living heart._  
_In the order of life, they know you there._  
_As you saw it, your plan, a real shot in the dark,_  
_Came a little too late, is over!_

Figures began to emerge, surrounding the captain and forcing him to abandon his ideas of manipulating the fires; it was a skill he'd only recently began to learn how to do consciously and it required a fair amount of concentration, and he couldn't concentrate if people were trying to kill him.

_Calling the children,_  
_Conception and dying,_  
_Silent but screaming!_

The Damned fell upon him, some with blades, some with improvised weapons, others with but their bare fists.

Anrak too the one closest to his right first, darting forward and opening up his chest with a single slice from _Kage Shitsukoi_, killing the man before he had a chance to block with his own weapon. He spun slightly to the left, pulling his zanpaktou back slightly before thrusting it forward and driving the deadly blade through a second togabito's heart, death screams filling the air along with the pungent scent of sulfur as both Damned burst into flames and disintegrated into ash.

_Damage done to the flesh, what they say in the name of,_  
_Damage done to the heart is the start of the end!_  
_Damage done to my soul, I know, it goes with my_  
_Damage done to my life, cursing loud at the chaos!_

He didn't pause to savor the victories, nor did the other Damned pause to mourn the loss of their comrades, opting instead to rush the shinigami with murder in their hearts.

_You're here, they're gone._  
_It's not fair, I'm lost…_  
_Your God, your fear,_  
_Was it worth the price?_

A third togabito swung at him with a wooden board, no doubt salvaged from one of the damaged or destroyed buildings, but Anrak didn't even bother dodging as he took his left hand, curled it into a fist and slammed it against the oncoming weapon, shattering it into sawdust as he brought his zanpaktou around with his right hand and severed the togabito's head neatly.

The others finally paused, perhaps reconsidering the notion of attacking a captain. Anrak looked from them to the bodies of young shinigami that littered the ground, growling.

"Don't stop now," he warned them. "There's no forgiving what you've done here. I'll make you _pay_ for the lives you've stolen!"

_Pray for the children you lost along the way,_  
_Still remember their names and faces…_  
_Cold and abandoned,_  
_They cry, their faith put in your hands,_  
_When it's over, they come to haunt you!_

The togabito took Anrak's advice and rushed towards him again as Anrak reflected on Kagi's words.

The faces of the fallen were already haunting him, filling him with guilt for not having gotten here in time to save them; they had trusted him, looked up to them, and he had failed to be there when they needed him most…

_Wasted confusion…_  
_Deadly illusion…_  
_Nightmare intrusion!_

He raised his zanpaktou to block a strike aimed for his head, but the togabito's inferior blade shattered upon contact with _Kage Shitsukoi_, splinters of steel flying about as a look of horror crossed the Damned's face a split second before the top half of his skull was neatly sheared off from the rest of his head by a retaliatory strike from the obsidian zanpaktou.

An unarmed togabito tried to come at Anrak from behind, but the shinigami was well aware of his presence, spinning around and slamming the hilt of his zanpaktou against the aggressor's skull, cracking it like an egg. The togabito stumbled back and fell, flames greedily devouring his body before he had a chance to hit the ground.

Another togabito emerged from the shadows, followed by another, and another…

_One more soul to the call, for all, in silence comes_  
_Two more souls to the call, for all, and in time,_  
_Three more souls to the call, they fall, unknowing that,_  
_Four more souls to the call won't be all, and you know it!_

Anrak looked at the Damned that were gathering around him, scowling as he tightened his grip on _Kage Shitsukoi_.

"Yeah, I know…"


	13. Hurt

**Hurt**

For the true warrior, emotion had no place in battle. Emotions, while they could _potentially_ serve to sharpen one's reflexes and harden their resolve, were infinitely more likely to cloud one's judgment and spur them into continuing down a losing battle instead of making a strategic withdrawal. Emotions that weren't kept in check or properly managed could actually be your worst enemy, more dangerous than even the foe currently trying to sever your head.

Once your blade was drawn, it was time to lock your emotions away.

For years, Neliel Tu Odelschwanck-Ushii had believed in those irrefutable facts whole-heartedly; they defined the very core of her fighting technique and made her into someone dangerous enough to have served as a member of the famed Espada and to now hold the position of Lieutenant in the Gotei 13. So important were these ideals that she had made it her personal responsibility to instill them into the shinigami under her charge so that it might save their lives one day.

And then everything had fallen apart as the Damned raided the Seireitei.

The soul reapers she had taught, the lives she had hoped to save, were dead now, courtesy of the tall, lecherously-grinning _demon_ in front of her.

Nnoitra Gilga…

Hate was starting to bubble over in the hollow void that passed for her heart.

His crimes were numerous, too numerous to accurately recall in full detail, but it had been Nnoitra who had tried to kill her so many times in Hueco Mundo, Nnoitra who turned his frustrations on her brothers and hurt them, Nnoitra who had tried to kill her trusted friend Ichigo Kurosaki, Nnoitra who had betrayed cracked her skull and threw her into the desert to die, Nnoitra who had killed her students, Nnoitra who had humiliated her…

His crimes were without number, his depravity without end, and she was done trying to show him mercy.

He was not worthy.

She knew beyond all doubt now that he had _never_ been worthy.

The only thing he was 'worthy' of was death, but it wasn't enough. She could kill him a thousand times, a thousand different ways, and it still wouldn't be enough to make him pay for his sins.

Emotions were a distraction, she knew this, but the longer the fight continued, the longer she looked at his leering face and that sick little grin of his, the angrier she became.

She would kill him, she would finally, decisively _end_ him once and for all and she was going to enjoy every sinful minute of it.

If he only knew the dark thoughts running through her head, he'd wipe that damnedable grin off his face…

Then again, he might grin even more, knowing that he had managed to infuriate her that much.

Their weapons clashed again, massive scythe-like _thing_ versus the smaller, more elegant form of _Gamuza_ and Neliel narrowed her eyes at him as he licked his lips lewdly. She understood all too well the unspoken words that accompanied the gesture and it served only to further anger her.

"Never again!" she roared, powering his weapon away to the side with her own zanpaktou. Continuing with the motion, she spun around completely and brought right leg up, slamming the heel into Nnoitra's jaw and sending him tumbling across the battle-scarred ground roughly.

"Getting angry, Neliel?" he asked as he got back to his feet, wiping a spot of blood from his lip with the back of his hand, the grin never fading. "That's not like the high and mighty _tres_ Espada I remember from so long ago…"

Despite his mocking tone, she knew he was right and that positively _burned_ her; of all the people to have ever existed, Nnoitra Gilga was the absolute _last_ person with any right to point out her mistakes.

She forced out a long, deep breath as she tried to regain control of herself. He had to pay, that was true, but she had to stay in control of herself or the victory would be meaningless. She had to best him as the cool and collected warrior she had always been, not as a rage-fueled machine of vengeance.

"I like it better when you're _crying_, anyway!" laughed Nnoitra, charging at her and swinging his oversized weapon. Ignoring that particular jab at her pride was hard, but she pushed his words aside and rolled underneath his blade, aiming to disembowel him with _Gamuza_, but the taller arrancar deftly hopped back just out of her reach.

Barely.

The tip of her zanpaktou sliced open his soot-covered white jacket and left a fine red line in his skin, but his quick reflexes had kept it from being a debilitating wound.

"I will not lose to the likes of you, Nnoitra," she informed him as she stood back up. "I will never fall to you again."

"You've already lost, you idiot," he responded, mocking her. "You're just too damn stupid to see it!"

She wanted to ask just how he came to that conclusion, but no sooner had the words left Nnoitra's mouth than she saw movement off to the right, entering the battlefield, perilously close to Nnoitra.

"Lieutenant!" cried Kiyone, readying her zanpaktou for battle alongside Sentaro.

"We're here to help!" boasted Sentaro. "This arrancar is going _down!_"

"Get out of here!" ordered Neliel as Nnoitra calmly turned to look at them, bit his tongue, opened his mouth, and fired a Gran Rey cero at the duo.

"_No!_" cried the lieutenant, abandoning all thoughts of attacking Nnoitra and throwing every last ounce of strength she had into her _sonido_, trying to intercept the deadly blast before it could claim the lives of two more of her officers. She saw the looks of horror on Kiyone and Sentaro's faces as they stared into the face of oblivion and with one last burst of speed, Neliel flung herself in front of the cero, arms held wide as she took the brunt of the attack's fury against her back.

She grit her teeth, eyes watering as she dug her heels into the ground and fought against the pain, trying to hold her ground. She felt her skin burning and bits of her black shihakushō deteriorating into nothingness, but she refused to budge as Kiyone and Sentaro stood shock-still in awe.

The relentless torrent of energy finally ended and a thoroughly-exhausted and injured Neliel fell forward, with her two officers catching her before she hit the ground face-first.

"Lieutenant!" cried Sentaro. "Are you okay?"

"Lieutenant, no!" sobbed Kiyone.

"And _that's_ why you can never really beat me, Neliel," laughed Nnoitra. "You weaken yourself by giving a damn about others. You'd never see _me_ doing something so stupid to save Tesla!"

"You bastard," growled Sentaro, leaving Kiyone to tend to the injured lieutenant as he stepped forward. "You'll pay for-"

"_No!_" commanded Neliel as she struggled to get back to her feet. The sleeves of her uniform were long gone as was a large segment of the back, her pants had been shredded, and various burns covered her exposed skin, but still she stood and gripped her zanpaktou as she turned back around to face her enemy.

"Lieutenant…" breathed Kiyone. "You can't! You're hurt!"

"I'm _fine_," she wheezed, lying. "You two get to safety and I'll finish this."

"But Lieutenant…" protested Sentaro.

"_Go!_" she shouted, drawing on all the authority her rank afforded her. "Get out of here!"

"We'll find help…" promised Kiyone, crying. "We'll find the Captain and bring him back, I promise!"

Nnoitra made no move to pursue them as they ran from the battle, leaving Neliel to face the demonic ex-Espada alone. He grinned at her condition, shouldering his weapon as he slowly strolled towards her.

"You still have your tattoo on your back," he said conversationally. "I figured you'd have had that removed by now."

"I can't erase my past and I'm not going to bother trying," said Nel, glowering at him.

"It really _pisses me off_ that you still cling to that meaningless three," hissed Nnoitra. "As if you _still _think you're better than me… I'll rip it off your back after I beat you into the ground!"

"I won't give you the chance," Neliel said slowly, raising her shaky arms and holding _Gamuza_ in front of her horizontally. "Praise-"

Her release was interrupted by Nnoitra, darting forward and knocking the zanpaktou from her hands with a savage swing before kicking her, sending her bouncing across the ground before she finally came to a stop against a far wall.

"You won't do _shit_, Neliel!" he sneered. "You've _lost_, you stupid bitch!"

"Then do it," she said icily. "Kill me. Get it over with."

"Kill you? Oh no, Neliel, I'm not going to kill you…but you're going to _wish I had!_"

* * *

Tatter de Malion tightened _Furui Hone's _chain in front of him, the sudden tension in the bone links deflecting the angry-red heat of the spike away a mere moment before it would have impaled his chest. However, there was no time to rest; another was sizzling through the air towards his head, and another ten behind that. Dodging and weaving through the hailstorm of Hell, the rogue quickly managed to jump up to the roof of the Common Hall, where the small party for All Hollow's Eve had taken place the night before, escaping the swarm for now. He gritted his teeth in anger, crimson eyes glaring pure, unadulterated hatred at the Quincy below him.

This was turning out to be more difficult than originally thought. Of course, he reminded himself, one had to expect this, what with the Soul Society being reishi-thick and Quincies being able to utilize that...

_ How irritating..._

On the ground, illuminated by the burning buildings and the immolated corpses of the unfortunate guardsmen, Äs Nödt stared up at the Shinigami and cocked his head. "Now, now, Butcher," he called out, voice carrying over the crackle of flames. "This is no way for a fearmonger to behave. Running like a scared child is unseemly for those such as us!"

Tatter de Malion did not bother to answer, merely crouching down on the gable of the roof. He swallowed hard; merely being around Hellfire caused one to suffer by leaching any moisture out of the air, and breathing in its unnatural heat would dry you out quickly. Regarding the shiny red burn on his left arm for a moment, he also reminded himself to not even get close to the flames if it could be avoided; a bad dodge had almost been the end of the fight earlier...

Once more turning his attention to the former Nazi in below him, the substitute Lieutenant reviewed his options.

Unfortunately, they were few. The last time he had fought the once-_Standartenführer, _the man who had administrated the Entsetzen death camp, he had been blindsided by the nightmare images and sensations the Äs Nödt's Fear Manipulation had forced him through...luckily, de Malion had somehow managed to push past them, but that had still left him much in the same pickle he found himself in now, namely, that of distance.

The Butcher eyed his unleashed zanpaktou. Furui Hone, when released, took the form of a highly-modified version of the ancient weapon known as the _kyoketsu-shoge._ A flat steel hoop, razor sharp around the edge, was attached by means of a rather long bone chain to the handle of a large blade, its own edge serrated. However, the length of this chain was still no match for the sheer distance that those goddamned spikes that his enemy was throwing could travel...

In 1944, de Malion had lucked out, won on a fluke.

He couldn't count on that again...but speaking of that victory...

"So, Äs Nödt," he called out. "Tell me. How did you get your head to stay straight? Last I remember, you had a little difficulty with that." He pantomimed wrapping a noose around his own neck.

The Quincy did not answer. Instead, he disappeared, a static rush of reishi accompanying the movement, and Tatter quickly spun around in time to block another spike with _Furui Hone's _blade, this one held by the pale hand of his nemesis. Apparently, the Pits hadn't dampened The Fear's skill with _hirenkyaku_ at all.

"I will admit..." whispered the Quincy pressing against de Malion's strength, eyes glittering madly. "I haven't _quite_ forgiven you for that..." A new spike materialized and hovered over his shoulder, advancing slowly as the Lieutenant struggled to gain leverage from his awkward position. "Perhaps I should take an eye as repayment?" Äs Nödt fell silent at the sudden, savage smile flashed in his masked face.

"Sorry, neither one's up for grabs."

The Butcher suddenly went limp, allowing his opponent to fall forward, and helped the Togabito in his journey with a booted foot to the stomach. Slashing out with the hoop, Tatter managed to draw blood from a leg as he rocketed back into a standing position.

Äs Nödt recovered and stood on the empty air some yards away, wide black eyes shining evilly in the fireglow as he probed his new wound and looked at the blood on his fingers and staining his robes. "Oh, de Malion. Tatter de Malion, so clever, so _very _cunning. Small wonder you are feared by the sons of the Goddess."

Tatter merely snorted. "That is one thing I honestly couldn't stand about you, Äs Nödt. All you ever talked about was fear and that whore you worship."

Äs Nödt stared at the Shinigami, and a trembling started in his limbs. "You would be wise," he muttered, "to not speak so disrespectfully of Mother Petrine."

The rogue smiled and stepped out onto the night air, a steady pulse of reiatsu from his _tentoken_ allowing him to walk into the emptiness. "What are you going to do about it?" Slowly, Tatter circled the man, never coming too close nor going too far as he prodded this newfound weak spot. "It even says it in your holy books, how she 'slept with men of power' to give birth to strong children..."

Äs Nödt's already wide eyes grew impossibly more so as a black-nailed hand balled itself into a tight fist. "You will be _silent..._" he growled.

Tatter de Malion smirked. "Or else what?" he taunted.

The pale, long-fingered hands clenched themselves, and then went limp as, without a word, Äs Nödt raised his arms...

And behind him, scores...no, _hundreds _of spikes materialized from the darkness, each glowing with a hateful, angry red orange as Hellfire gave them strength.

Tatter de Malion's smile faded immediately as the Damned then flung his hands forward, and the swarm darted toward him.

"Oh..._shit..._"

* * *

Tōshirō Hitsugaya watched as the severed right wing of his bankai form plummeted down to the Seireitei now far below him. It had not been a surprise that the togabito had been able to follow him into the sky, but he hadn't expected just how quickly and easily Cao would respond to his bankai. The ice wing hit the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces, but even as the remains began to melt, the broken wing began to regenerate.

"Is this all your bankai is?" asked Cao, sounding disappointed. "I must admit, Captain, I found your previous form to be much more impressive."

"Don't judge it just yet!" snapped the captain, whipping his icy tail at the togabito. It made contact with Cao's offhand blade and for a brief moment, the blade froze over, coated with ice.

Only for a brief moment, though.

The broadsword's blade flashed red as the spark of Hellfire imbued within instantly melted the ice, turning it to steam.

"Come now, Captain; I expected so much more…"

"Try _this!_" roared Hitsugaya, flicking his blade in Cao's direction. Dozens of ice shards flew forth from the swing, elongating into deadly-sharp projectiles, each nearly as long as the zanpaktou blade itself.

Cao expertly countered, swiftly meeting each incoming missile with his dancing blades, shattering the ice daggers harmlessly. Only one made it through the near-impenetrable shield of swords, but Cao deftly turned his head and allowed the missile to sail past his cheek harmlessly.

"That one _almost_ got me," he said, praising the small captain.

"I'll have to aim more carefully next time," promised Hitsugaya, only to have Cao smile condescendingly.

"And who said anything about there even _being_ a next time?" he asked before vanishing from sight.

It wasn't _shunpo_, but he was very fast. Cao wasn't so fast that the young shinigami couldn't see him, but he was fast enough to be dangerous; as the togabito darted forward, his twin blades poised to skewer the soul reaper, Hitsugaya instinctively wrapped his frozen wrings around his body, forming a spherical ball of ice to shield his flesh.

The deadly Hellfire blades effortlessly penetrated the barrier up to the hilt, the tips stabbing him in his shoulders; the offhand sword in his right shoulder and the mainhand in his left.

The ice around the blades instantly began to turn to steam, burning the young captain's face for a few moments before the weakened wings finally broke off and fell to the ground. Hitsugaya stumbled backwards across the air, his shoulders bleeding even as his broken wings began to regenerate once more.

"Devious, are they not?" asked Cao, referring to his blades. "They melt your ice so easily, but they do not cauterize your wounds."

"_Devilish _is the word I'd use," hissed the wounded Hitsugaya.

"Touché, young Captain," smiled Cao. "Shall we finish this?"

"Finish?" echoed Hitsugaya. "Don't get cocky just because you drew a little blood!"

"Cocky? Oh, dear Captain, it seems you still have much to learn… Allow me to teach you the art of war!"

* * *

The togabito at the gates had done little more than delay Anrak and they had paid for their interference in blood and fire. The captain now ran through the streets of Division 13 uncontested, desperately seeking his lieutenant and any of his other officers in need.

There were bodies of slain shinigami here and there, but so too were there piles of black ash marking the deaths of several invaders. However many of his men may have died, they at least went down fighting, just as they had been trained to do.

He was proud of them, all of them, but he could not dwell on that for the moment; there would be time enough to praise the survivors and mourn the dead once the battle was over.

He saw Kiyone and Sentaro and as they in turn noticed him, they began running in his direction, waving their arms frantically in an effort to get his attention. He wanted to stop and check on them, but there were no togabito on their tails and he could sense Neliel just up ahead and her need took precedence over whatever they might wish to tell him.

"Captain!" called Kiyone, "Lieutenant Nel is hurt!"

"Hurry, Captain!" urged Sentaro.

Hurt? His Lieutenant was hurt? His _wife_ was hurt?

Kagi's tune abruptly changed in response to his bubbling rage and though she hated the arrancar herself, she dared not cheer the news.

_Helpless!_  
_My eyes are bleeding from the fear that's inside!_  
_You sealed your demise_  
_When you hurt what was mine!_

He poured on the speed, flash-stepping ahead and turning the corner into the squad courtyard in time to see an invader with a massive weapon batting Nel into the air with a callous laugh. The wounded lieutenant fell towards the unforgiving ground, but Anrak was there in an instant, catching her in his arms.

"Captain…" she breathed, clearly surprised to see him. Her uniform was shredded and she was bleeding from a dozen wounds across her body, burn marks showing on her arms and her neck, and her trademark green hair was singed in a few places.

"Get out of here, Lieutenant," he said softly, setting her back on her feet gently. "I'll take over from here."

"No! Captain, this is _my_ fight!" she protested as he drew his zanpaktou. "You don't know what he's done to me!"

_Don't try and stop me from avenging this world!_  
_No voice to be heard!_

"This isn't the time or place for your personal vendetta!" snapped Anrak, the harshness of his tone taking the lieutenant by surprise and forcing her to take a step back, blinking owlishly. "Look around you, Neliel! Can't you see it? Can't you _feel_ it? Our back is against the wall, but you're worried about settling some stupid grudge match?"

"Captain, it's not like that-"

"You have a _job _to do, Lieutenant. You have a responsibility to the Seireitei that goes beyond vengeance," he reminded her. "We're in trouble, Neliel; we need reinforcements."

"Mind your own goddamned bus-" began the invader, only to be cut off as Anrak slashed his onyx blade at the ground, a wall of black flames springing up between the togabito and the soul reapers.

"Don't interrupt me again," he growled warningly. "Just sit there and wait patiently for now."

"Captain, _please_, I need to-" Neliel tried again, but Anrak turned to look at her, his eyes hard.

"What you _need_ to do, Lieutenant, is go secure us some reinforcements. These invaders caught us by surprise and it's time we repay the favor with something that'll take _everyone_ by surprise."

She stared at him in shock for a minute as the meaning behind his words finally registered with her.

"You _can't_-"

"You're right; I can't. But _you_ can," he told her. "You're the only one who can."

"What makes you think they'll come? They _hate_ the Seireitei!"

"But they don't hate _you_," he told her softly. "You and I both know they won't forsake you if you ask for help."

"If Yamamoto finds out-" Nel tried to protest, only to have Anrak kiss her quickly, smiling softly as he brushed her hair affectionately.

"You let me worry about the consequences, okay? You just do what needs to be done and I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens," he said gently. Neliel swallowed hard, looking at him.

"Okay," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "If you think this is best…"

"I wouldn't ask you to do it otherwise, _koibito_," he assured her. "Go; I'll take care of your ugly friend here."

"Friend?" sneered the togabito as Neliel darted off. "Her _friend?! _You're going to _pay_ for that remark, you stupid shinigami bastard!"

"Nnoitra Gilga, am I right?" asked Anrak as he turned to face the Damned, narrowing his eyes and stepping forward, the wall of black flame parting for him. "I've heard more than enough about you to recognize exactly who you are. Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Anrak Ushii, Captain of Squad 13 and Neliel's husband."

"She's _married?_" asked Nnoitra, laughing. "Oh, this is just _too_ perfect! I can't _wait_ to see the look on her face when I drop your broken corpse at her feet!"

"We'll see if you still think that after I tear your head off…" answered Anrak. "_Bankai!_"

The flames scattered about the courtyard, black and otherwise, danced about wildly, reaching higher into the sky as Anrak's _reiatsu_ expanded outward explosively before collapsing in, dragging the shadows of the night along and wrapping his body in them. The ground beneath his feet cracked and burned, glowing as onyx flames spiraled their way up and engulfed his body, baking the coalesced shadows, solidifying them into hardened armor. The shadowy flames dissipated, leaving the shinigami clad in black armor reminiscent of samurai garb from the neck down, a wickedly-looking obsidian blade in each hand.

"The fuck?" asked Nnoitra, surprised.

"_Yoroi_ _Kage-en_," answered Anrak, stepping back with his left foot and raising his twin swords up into a battle stance. "Shadowflame Armor."

"Pretty, but that's not enough-" he began, cutting himself short as he jerked backwards to try and avoid a furious slash from Anrak's offhand blade. The blade, deceptively hot, bit into Nnoitra's skin, tearing its way across his chest and sending a splash of crimson blood into the air.

_Waking the demon!_  
_Where'd you run to?_  
_Walking in shadows!_  
_Watch the blood flow!_

"You bastard…" growled Nnoitra, tightening his grip on his weapon.

"Shut up and release your zanpaktou," commanded Anrak icily. "I'm going to destroy everything you are and ever will be."

"Pray, _Santa Teresa!_"

* * *

When Jean Rawlings joined the Gotei 13 three years ago shortly before the Winter War, he had done so to protect innocent souls from ravenous hollows. He'd discovered he had some latent spiritual powers during his stay in the Rukon and while it wasn't much, he had immediately felt he had a responsibility to use those powers to help people.

He never thought he'd end up facing an escaped murderer from the depths of Hell.

No, not a murderer; a _demon_. No mere man could possibly do such monstrous things to women as this despicable 'Jack' character.

"No one understands my work," Jack lamented as he thrust his slender cane sword at Jean again, forcing the shinigami to parry. "What everyone sees as evil, I see as _necessary_. These vile strumpets are the root of all true evil in the world, dear chap; they lead unsuspecting gents like yourself on, they spread lies and gossip, they manipulate the people around them, they cheat on those who would devote themselves entirely to them… Someone has to punish them all and I am the only one with the fortitude to do so!"

"Ya sick, tha's what ya are," said Jean with disgust as he batted the blade away and countered with a quick slash at Jack's neck. "I don' know wha' happen to ya to make ya so bitter, but I'm awful sorry 'bout it. Tain't no reason ta be blamin' all women for it, though."

"Except that they're _all_ guilty, lad!" countered Jack, stepping back just out of reach of Jean's zanpaktou. "Given the chance, any of these whores would do the same to any man, you included!"

"Ya wrong about-" Jean began, cutting himself short as the woman Jack had been 'entertaining' himself with earlier coughed lightly, blood spurting from her neck.

"So she still lives…" Jack murmured. "I shall have to fix that."

"Ain't gonna let ya!" snapped Jean, attacking with renewed fervor and forcing Jack to backpeddle further away from the downed woman.

"Your chivalry is misplaced, chap," Jack said, blocking a strike that would have cleaved into his face. He knocked the zanpaktou away and lashed out with a diagonal blow aimed at Jean's head, but the shinigami stepped away from it and drove a sidekick into Jack's ribcage, taking the togabito off his feet and slamming him back into a wall. Jack slid to the ground, coughing as he held his chest and began to push himself back up.

"An' ya anger is unjust," countered Jean.

"What you call anger, I call 'justice,' but I shouldn't expect a colonial _savage_ to understand such a lofty concept," spat Jack. He glared hatefully at Jean for a moment, then gazing beyond the shinigami and grinning evilly. "And I see I have another bitch to punish once I'm finished with you…"

"Bitch? Is that the best you've got, pretty boy?" growled a feminine voice. "I've been itching for a good scrap. Let's dance!"

Jean took a couple of steps back from Jack before glancing over his shoulder at the new arrival. He recognized the green-eyed, raven-haired form of Kisutera Yishona almost immediately, having seen her with Lieutenant Masamune on several occasions, and he knew she was one of the top medics within Squad 4.

But medicine was the farthest thing on the soul reaper's mind as she drew her zanpaktou and prepared to lay into Jack. She took a step forward towards her enemy, but Jean held out his sword and blocked her path.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_, Jean? This isn't the time to get all noble and fight alone. We can take this guy together!" she hissed.

"That ain't tha way it gon' be," he told her softly. "I can't heal people, but ya can," he pointed towards the downed woman from earlier, "an' she still alive. I think she be needin' ya help. I can handle this 'un myself."

Kisutera looked from Jack to her fallen comrade and let out a long, angry breath before nodding her head in agreement. "Just make sure you finish it, or _I_ will."

"I promise he ain't eva gonna hurt nobody again," said Jean solemnly as Kisutera walked over to the wounded woman and kneeled beside her.

"Throat's slashed, but it's low across the collar; he missed her windpipe," said the medic. "I'm more worried about these multiple stab wounds in her abdomen… I need time to close them all."

"I'll buy ya all tha time ya need," said Jean as Jack launched himself at the shinigami furiously.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, boy!" snarled the Englishman, thrusting his blade forward with lightning speed. Jean parried it off to the right and opened his mouth to retort only to feel a sharp, stabbing pain in his left side, just underneath his ribs. He coughed, spitting up blood as he looked down, confused.

Jack's dagger was embedded into his side, up to the hilt.

"You let your guard down, chap," said the Englishman with a condescending grin as he twisted the dagger and yanked down on the hilt suddenly, breaking the blade off inside the shinigami.

Jean staggered backwards and collapsed to his knees, holding his wounded side with his left hand, refusing to let go of his zanpaktou.

"My sword is unbreakable, forged from the chains of Hell," Jack informed him with a grin. "My dagger, on the other hand, was forged from the lesser metals found in the pit. I hate to sacrifice it, but I'm sure I can find a suitable replacement around here somewhere."

"Damn…" breathed the wounded man as Jack turned his attention to Kisutera and his previous victim.

"Now, where was I?" he asked, grinning malevolently as he stepped past Jean towards the two women.

"I…won't…let…ya!" Jean, forcing himself to stand and moving to place himself between Kisutera and Jack. "I ain't done with ya jes yet!"

"Stubborn fool…" muttered Jack, raising his sword into an offensive posture as Jean struggled to stay on his feet. "How well do you think you'll fare in that condition?"

"I promised I wouldn't let ya hurt anyone else an' I _always_ keep my promises!"

* * *

Despite being notoriously lazy when it came to doing her share of the paperwork or leading her subordinates through drills, Rangiku Matsumoto was quite skilled with a blade, deceptively so, in fact; many who had faced her either in true combat or in sparring had been caught off guard by her prowess and quickly defeated.

Unfortunately, the blood-crazed witch standing across from her was no slouch, either.

"Don't look so surprised, dear," she said with her cultured voice. "I didn't survive this long in Hell by being soft."

"Then maybe I need to try a new tactic," said Rangiku, hopping away from the Countess and pulling her zanpaktou to her side. "Growl, _Haineko!_"

The zanpaktou blade appeared to disintegrate, turning to fine ash and falling away into nothingness, leaving the shinigami holding nothing but the hilt. Erzsébet raised a finely-manicured eyebrow as Rangiku smirked and thrust the empty hilt forward, commanding the dense could of ash to attack the haughty noblewoman.

"Is this it?" asked Erzsébet, laughing as she completely ignored the razor-sharp ash particles attacking her skin. "You poor, poor girl… Ash is everywhere in Hell, constantly being thrown about by volcanic eruptions. It's sharp as glass but over time, you become accustomed to it…_if_ your will to survive is strong enough, that is."

"Wonderful," said Rangiku sarcastically, only to have the Countess dart forward and seize her by the throat with her left hand.

"Indeed," agreed the woman. "I never though such an irritation would serve a useful purpose, but here we are, dear, and your little sword simply _can't _cut me."

"Can't it?" asked Rangiku as the ash particles reformed into a solid blade. With one quick motion, she slashed at the Countess' wrist, opening it up and letting her blood flow. "Looks like it cuts pretty well to me."

"You filthy _beast_!" shrieked Erzsébet, reeling away and holding her wounded arm.

"…says the sick _bitch_ who bathes in blood," scoffed Rangiku.

"You'll _pay_ for that…" hissed the Countess as the blood stopped flowing and the wound began to knit itself closed.

"What the hell?" asked Rangiku, staring at the now-shriveled hand, the flesh receding from the fingernails and making them look more like talons. "What _are_ you?"

She quickly raised _Haineko_ to block a savage strike from the enraged noblewoman, but she had just barely deflected the sword when she saw the disfigured hand being thrust at her face with lightening speed. Rangiku jerked her head to the side to avoid having her face punctured by the fingernail-claw _things_, but Erzsébet's thumb managed to slice into her cheek, opening it up.

Rangiku stepped back away from the woman, rubbing her blooded cheek as the Countess raised her clawed hand to her face and licked the blood from her thumb lovingly.

"You really _are_ some kind of vampire, aren't you?"

"I am _nothing_ like those filthy creatures," snapped the redhead.

"Your obsession with blood made you into a monster, didn't it?" asked Rangiku slowly, realization dawning. "You may have bathed in it centuries ago to stay young and beautiful, but now you do it to stay somewhat _human_, don't you?"

"_Don't you judge me!_" roared Erzsébet, viciously attacking the lieutenant once again. Her sudden outburst caught Rangiku off-guard and the elegant sword bit into her left arm deeply, severing muscles. Rangiku cried out in pain as she staggered back away from the berserk woman, backpedaling as she parried attack after attack with only her right and _Haineko._

Erzsébet continued to press the attack, viciously, and as they locked blades and struggled for dominance, Rangiku slowly turned her near-useless left arm that was dangling at her side just enough to have her palm face towards her enemy.

"Hadō #31, _Shakkahō_!" cried Rangiku, firing a red, spherical burst of kidō from her wounded arm directly into Erzsébet's midsection. The attack knocked the woman back three meters, knocking her off her feet and putting her flat on her back and giving Rangiku a moment to take a breather. She ripped the sleeve off her injured left arm and wrapped it around her left bicep tightly using her mouth and her freehand, making an impromptu tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

The Countess got back to her feet, a hole blown in her dress that revealed her beastly, dried-up looking stomach and chest to the world, but otherwise unhurt.

"You're going to die slowly, soul reaper," she promised Rangiku darkly. "I'm going to _enjoy_ spilling your blood."

* * *

It hurt.

More than it should have, more than she would have expected it to, more than it had any right to, it _hurt_, and it hurt deeply.

_ This isn't the time or place for your personal vendetta! Look around you, Neliel! Can't you see it? Can't you feel it? Our back is against the wall, but you're worried about settling some stupid grudge match?_

Never before had her captain, her husband, spoken so harshly to her and it _hurt_. It cut her deep, as deep as any strike from Nnoitra's zanpaktou.

Neliel recognized that he was right, of course; the Seireitei badly needed help and she was the only one capable of raising reinforcements that would be strong enough to make a difference. Still, that didn't ease the pain in her chest.

She knew he hadn't meant to hurt her, knew that he would never do anything to make her upset, but that didn't make it any easier. She also knew that he was trying to protect her; she saw the look of recognition in his eyes the moment he looked at Nnoitra and knew he was remembering all the stories she had told of Nnoitra's betrayal. She knew he was simply looking out for her, but…

She shook it off as best she could; now was _not_ the time to worry about any of that.

The lieutenant ran for Sōkyoku Hill and the Senkaimon as fast as she could, relying on her _sonido_ to rapidly cover the distance. She passed shinigami engaged with togabito everywhere, but she could not pause to help them; time was of the essence here, had to hurry and rally help before the captains began to fall. She could feel their despair now that she was free of her battle with Nnoitra and she was upset at her failure to notice it earlier.

Things were bad and they were only going to get worse unless she could convince them to come…

The Senkaimon was in sight now as were the guards posted at it, though a few piles of black ash were visible scattered throughout the area. She came to a stop in front of the two guards who were obviously surprised to see someone of her rank at the gate during an invasion, but she ignored them for a second as she waved over a Hell Butterfly from the nests nearby.

"Lieutenant, you're not actually _leaving_ at a time like this, are you?" questioned one of the guards.

"I'm going to get help," she said quickly. "Open the gates for Karakura Town and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yes, Ma'am!" said the guards in unison, sliding open the gates for her. Without another word, she darted into the Dangai precipice world, going into her _sonido_ and heading for the light at the end of the tunnel as fast as possible, the tiny black Hell Butterfly struggling to keep pace with the lieutenant.

For three years, she had guarded a secret from her fellow shinigami, with only her captain and a few others like Ichigo and Captain Kyōraku being in on it, but the time had come to reveal the truth to everyone. She would have preferred to keep it quiet a while longer and let old wounds heal, but no secret could stay hidden forever.

She thought back to her friends in the Seireitei, battling for their lives as she exited the Dangai into the night sky over Karakura.

"Hang on just a little bit longer and we'll take care of everything…"

* * *

Rin Tsubokura sat in the storage shed, staring at the fuzzy monitor screen of an outdated tracking terminal, watching red dots representing hollows blink out of existence over Karakura Town as green dots representing shinigami eliminated them. Outside the shed, he could hear the sounds of battle echoing down the streets of the Seireitei, screams of the dead and dying being carried by on the night winds. To his right sat the useless radio mic and embedded in the terminal just above where the mic sat was the speaker that occasionally spat forth a burst of static and a garbled transmission from Kuchiki's scout team, asking for reinforcements.

There was no light in the shed other than the monitor screen and Rin shivered in fright at the sounds outside; they would be unpleasant enough to listen to under any normal circumstance, but to hear them while being all alone and in the dark…

The monitor screen flashed and a green triangle suddenly appeared over Karakura, bringing a frown to Rin's face. Green triangles were reserved for high-ranking officers, the captains and lieutenants; why would one of them be going to Karakura at a time like this? He tapped a few keys and moused over the triangle, trying to identify the shinigami. The ancient monitor station was slow, but with a helpful slap against its frame, it finally pegged the triangle as one Lieutenant Neliel Tu Odelschwanck-Ushii.

"That's weird…" muttered Rin, tapping a few more keys and bringing up a detailed overlay of the city. The screen stuttered a bit, electronic snow obscuring his view for a moment, but that too was fixed with another slap. He watched Neliel's signature go to an apartment building in downtown Karakura, pausing there for a couple of minutes.

Then everything suddenly went to Hell all over again; the monitor station began blaring an alarm klaxon as loud as it could as a pair of red triangles appeared on either side of Nel, effectively trapping her. Rin paled as he read the data, absentmindedly hitting the 'off' button for the alarm repeatedly. This wasn't right, this _couldn't_ be right! Red triangles hadn't been seen since the war! They were all supposed to be _dead!_

The three triangles broke away and sped off across the map in different directions, each one coming to a stop at a new location; one red triangle stopped at another apartment building, one stopped at the house pegged in the system as belong to Orihime Inoue, and Nel's green triangle stopped at yet another apartment complex.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Only for a moment.

Within a minute, the alarm klaxon began blaring again as three new red triangles appeared, one at each location, with an additional red dot appearing at Nel's stop. Now in full panic mode, Rin began actively _hitting_ the 'off' button for the alarm as all the triangles began to converge on a single location, frantically hoping the off button would also turn off the nightmare image he was seeing on screen.

Swallowing hard, he identified that location as an open Senkaimon leading back to the Seireitei.

As if things weren't bad enough already…

"She's betrayed us all…"

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

_**Author's Note: **So, Tatter's segment was once again donated by Ziggy and Ryu contributed to Kisutera's brief appearance here. We'll see what Enjeru and the scout team are up to next chapter! Also next chapter, the cavalry arrives (maybe). Lyrics this time are borrowed from Bullet For My Valentine's _"Waking the Demon_," slightly modified._


	14. Faith and Despair

**Faith and Despair**

The arrancar before him had been an ugly-enough bastard pre-release, but the insectoid-looking four-armed form of the new Nnoitra Gilga was in a stomach-churning class of its own. Long, stringy grease-coated hair framed either side of his mad face, still with that irritating grin, as he pressed forward and engaged the shorter shinigami captain before him.

"This _is_ what you wanted, isn't it?" he screeched. "You told me to release my zanpaktou so tell me, _Captain_, what do you think? How does it look?"

"I think," stated Anrak as he raised his blades overhead to block Nnoitra's weapons, two on each side, "it's going to look just fine underneath the heel of my boot."

"Really?" asked Nnoitra, grinning broadly. "But that's not going to happen, you stupid soul reaper; you've left yourself wide open!"

A third pair of arms sprang out from Nnoitra's sides, the bony protrusions homing in on Anrak's exposed sides with a lightning-quick spearhand strike.

"Have I?" asked the captain. As the clawed hands neared his sides, aiming for the space directly underneath his ribcage, the short black spikes on the armor's elbow joints suddenly extended, becoming twelve-inch long blades the shot downward and impaled Nnoitra's hands.

With a roar of pain, the former Espada jumped back away from the captain, ripping his hands free in a spray of crimson blood. The blades retracted back into the elbow of the armor as Nnoitra looked at his torn hands.

"You son of a bitch…" he growled as Anrak raised his swords into an aggressive posture.

"No sense in keeping useless limbs, is there?" asked Anrak. "Here, let me amputate them for you!"

Before the injured Espada could respond, before he could even _think_ of responding, Anrak lunged forward and severed the two injured arms at their elbows, leaving Nnoitra with twin stubs on either side of his body. To his credit, the arrancar did not howl in pain from the loss, opting instead to grit his teeth and glower at the shinigami with hate.

At least his stupid grin was finally gone.

_There's not much longer, so don't try and hide,  
Your body's weakening, walk to the light!  
Those painful times so alone, so ashamed!  
You're not coming back, there's nothing to gain!_

"Four arms versus two seem like much better odds," commented Anrak as Kagi continued to sing in her shadowy inner world. "But two on two would be even better, don't you think?"

"Don't get cocky, you bastard…" growled Nnoitra. "You think this means anything? Watch _this!_"

Nnoitra's grin returned and he wiggled his stumps about uselessly, but nothing else happened.

"Watch what?" asked Anrak. "Watch you re-grow your arms?"

"H-how did you know about that?" asked the surprised arrancar before snarling, "And why the _hell_ isn't it working?"

"Not all my knowledge about you comes from Nel…" admitted the shinigami, smirking with mild amusement at the arrancar's confusion. "I wasn't always a captain, you know… Prior to my promotion, I was a member of Squad 11, serving underneath Kenpachi Zaraki."

"I know that name…" muttered Nnoitra. "That's the freak job from Hueco Mundo who killed me!"

"Yes, it is, and I heard all about your little battle from him. I knew about your ability to regenerate limbs, but…," said Anrak with a grin, "Kagi's blade is deceptively hot and I thought you might have a bit of trouble if the wound was _cauterized_."

"You think this means _shit_ to me?" snapped Nnoitra, discarding the weapons from his middle set of arms before grabbing hold of the stumps and ripping them free of his body. He grimaced as the truncated arms were torn free, but within another second, a new pair shot forth from his body and took their place. With a subtle motion of his wrists on each of his four arms, a new scythe-like blade shot out of each arm and into his waiting hands.

"Impressive," admitted Anrak. "I was hoping you wouldn't die _that_ easily. I want to _enjoy_ killing you."

"You even _sound_ like that asshole now," sneered Nnoitra. "But that's fine; killing you won't only crush Nel's spirit, but it should also hurt that stupid fucker who taught you!"

"I doubt very much Captain Zaraki would shed a tear if I died, even if I used to be one of his officers," responded the shinigami. "Squad 11 isn't known for its sentimentality."

"We'll see about that when I show him your severed head!" roared Nnoitra, charging forward and attacking with all six of his weapons. Anrak backpedaled defensively, blocking and deflecting shot after shot, but numerically the odds were against him and several blows found their mark, slamming into his obsidian armor with enough force cut a man in two.

Kagi's embrace was not so easily broken, however, and the armor staved off the worst of the damage.

Bits of black steel broke away and fell to the ground with each shot, but the armor held up under the onslaught, allowing Anrak to focus his effort on keeping the deadly blades away from his unprotected skull.

"How long, shinigami?" laughed Nnoitra, clearly enjoying being on the offensive. "How long will that stupid tin can of yours hold up? How long before it breaks and I gut you like a fucking animal?"

"It'll last as long as it needs to," responded Anrak, the elbow blades on his arms extending and retracting rapidly as he moved his arms, assisting in blocking as many of the arrancar's attacks as possible. Nnoitra stepped a little too close and the right blade cut off one of his hands at the wrist, sending the bony appendage and its weapon to the ground. "How many times can you re-grow a lost arm? An ability like that must have a limit."

"If it does, you won't live to see it!" answered the enraged arrancar, bringing his remaining five weapons down in vertical arc and forcing Anrak to cross both his swords overhead in an X-block. His armor augmented his strength, but the strength of five arms was too much and it took every ounce of power in his body to hold back the terrifying blades.

His knees began to buckle underneath the pressure, the very ground under his feet cracking and cratering. Nnoitra just grinned as his damaged arm re-grew its lost hand and spat another blade forth from his wrist.

"You're wide open again!" he sneered, swinging the weapon horizontally with all his might and catching Anrak in his exposed side. The impact of the blow send him flying across the battleground, through a protective wall meant to keep intruders away from the inner-most section of the division, but his journey didn't stop there as his body bounced and tumbled across the ground before smashing into another small building and bringing it crashing down on top of him.

"Don't tell me you're dead already," called Nnoitra, stepping through the hole in the wall and following the trail of fragmented black steel and droplets of blood. "Not after all that big talk…"

The pile of debris shifted as Anrak got to his feet, a wound in his scalp and a large chunk missing from the left side of the armor's chest plate. A tiny lizard, a hollow, scampered around his feet and quickly scaled the armor to sit on his shoulder.

"Chompy…" muttered the shinigami as he looked at the creature and then back to Nnoitra. "Son of a bitch, you broke my house."

"First your house, then you, then that green-haired _whore_," promised Nnoitra.

Anrak turned his head slightly to look at the tiny creature perched on his shoulder.

"Find someplace to hide, Chompy; this is going to get ugly and Nel would be hurt if something happened to you," he said, watching as the creature cocked its head sideways and blinked at him. "And yeah, I guess I'd be pretty upset, too. Get out of here and we'll find you when it's safe."

_There's just no limit to the boundaries you push!  
I've warned you but still you just fuck with my mind!  
There's no escape from this rage that I feel!  
Nothing is real!_

The miniature hollow obediently scampered down the shinigami's armored form to the ground and disappeared into the debris pile as Anrak turned his full attention back to Nnoitra, gripping his zanpaktou angrily.

"Fuckin' armor's tougher than I thought," admitted the arrancar. "I was pretty sure that would at least cripple you."

"Less talking, more bleeding!" snarled the captain, surging forward with renewed enthusiasm.

_Waking the demon!_

* * *

There were times Enjeru was envious of the humans in the world of the living. The vast majority were never aware of the dark and terrible things that lurked in the shadows that lie just beyond their limited awareness. And as Enjeru blasted another of the beastly Kushanāda into oblivion with a blast of electrically-charged kidō, he looked down at the masses going about their business likes ants in a farm and let out a sigh.

_ Ignorance is truly bliss today._

A roar sounded to Enjeru's left. Snapping his head over towards the disturbance, Enjeru saw Shūhei Hisagi carve yet another beast into pieces with his wickedly lethal and somewhat disturbing released form of _Kazeshini_. The dual reaper-like blades spun from Hisagi's hands and left no doubt to anyone who viewed them that they were indeed things meant to end life. The usually non-violent Soul Reaper who held to the philosophy of walking the path that resulted in the least bloodshed must have come to the same conclusion Enjeru did after the umpteenth Kushanāda dissolved into ash, only to be replaced by another of the brutish monsters.

_ They're not going to stop until they accomplish whatever it is they are after. But what is it?_

"Hounds! The attack dogs of Hell are coming from the gate!" Enjeru's eyes widened in fear as he spun towards the gates of the underworld and Ashido Kano, who had been calling out new opponents for each Soul Reaper as they become freed from whatever struggle they were engaged in. Enjeru rushed to the gate, sidestepping another falling Kushanāda, this one broken and twisted into a rather unappealing form. As Enjeru reached the gate, he could see his captain still fighting to close the broken doors that led to Hell. The armored samurai form of _Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō _reached out yet again to try and seal the portal, only to have yet another of the demonic ape-like creatures burst forth and savagely beat on it. Reaching Ashido's side, Enjeru looked past the opening of the gate and saw several forms approaching and silently thanked the open skies.

"They're not Cerberus dogs. Look at the lean musculature and single head; they're like greyhounds. Trackers."

Ashido gave Enjeru a quizzical glance. "Tracking _what, exactly_?"

"Lieutenant Masamune!" Captain Kuchiki's voice still held the calm and regal demeanor it always did, even in the middle of the carnage. Enjeru flash-stepped to meet the Captain, noticing that Byakuya had also unleashed his bankai. The pink tidal wave of sakura petals that was _Senbonzakura Kageyoshi _roiled and crashed like a great tide of destruction over several invading beasts reducing them to nothing.

"Try to reach the Seireiteiagain and call for reinforcements. We cannot hold this position forever, and the numbers are beginning to get out of hand."

"Affirmative, Captain.," Enjeru reached inside his jacket and produced the cell phone-like device that should have allowed him to communicate with the command center deep in Squad 12's compound.

"This is Enjeru Masamune calling the Seireitei, please respond!"

Static filled the speaker as Enjeru closed the device and tucked it away again.

"Something is wrong with this whole situation," Byakuya waved his hand, sending his wave of deadly flower petals into another group of Kushanāda. "We have no choice. Someone must return through the _Senkaimon_ and gather reinforcements."

Enjeru nodded turned towards the direction of the portal back to Soul Society. "I'll be back as soon as I can with help." Enjeru was about to flash-step towards his goal only to be stopped by Ashido grabbing his shoulder.

"No, I'll go. You need to stay here and hold the Kushanāda back. I'll see if I can find Captain Abarai and we'll be back as soon as we can."

Enjeru was about to argue that he was likely faster than the other Lieutenant with his shikai-enhanced abilities, but Captain Kuchiki nodded in agreement.

"Very well, Lieutenant Kanō. Return to the Seireitei and gather what help you can. Go now."

Lieutenant Kano dissolved in a flash, leaving Enjeru and Byakuya alone together. Enjeru looked to the captain and back at the new adversaries pouring through the gates. Lean, smoldering hounds leapt out of the gates, their noses down and sniffing. Enjeru took note of this and noticed that the Kushanāda had stopped advancing.

"They're letting the dogs get a scent. Maybe if we let the dogs chase whatever they're after the Kushanāda will stop trying to kill us and wait for the trackers."

Shūhei backed away from the gates and fell back to where Enjeru and Captain Kuchiki were standing and readied his zanpaktou. "I hope you're right; I could use a breather."

* * *

"Crush your bones, crush your bones, I'm going to _crush your bones!_"

Rukia ducked under another wild swing from the demented and mentally-damaged arrancar before being forced to somersault back away from a powerful kick that would have likely collapsed her ribs had it connected. She'd already found out the hard way that this beast, despite being warped, was dreadfully strong. She had taken a kick earlier, a lighter one, and it had hurt so much that she suspected her ribs had tiny cracks running throughout the bones now.

She couldn't take another shot like that, and she damn sure couldn't stand against a blow that was even more powerful.

"Why are you here?" she pressed, hoping to slow him down by getting him to talk. "What do you want?"

"Your bones, your bones, I want your bones!" sang Rondare Onsende, cackling madly as he attacked again.

Well, there were other ways to slow him down if talking wouldn't work…

"Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel, divide this into six! Bakudō #61, _Rikujōkōrō!_" cried Rukia. Six beams of golden light, thin and wide, appeared in the air around the arrancar and collapsed in on him, slamming into his torso and immobilizing him.

"What is this, what is this?" he screeched, moving his head about frantically, the only part of his body not frozen in place. "What have you done, _what have you done?!_"

"A binding spell," answered Rukia. "One powerful enough to render you harmless while I decide how best to deal with you."

"Powerful?" echoed the arrancar, appearing confused. "No, no, no, _no!_ Not powerful, not powerful! I am stronger, yes I am, yes, I am!"

"Struggle all you want, but…" began Rukia, only to trail off as she noticed cracks forming in the six beams of light. "No, that's not-"

"Not powerful, not, not, _not!_" declared Rondare, shattering the bonds and sending the last broken fragments of golden energy flying through the air before they dissipated entirely.

Rukia was too stunned by the sight to react to the arrancar's follow-up as he darted forward and seized her by the neck roughly and slammed her against the wall.

"Eat your face, eat your face, _eat your face!_" he bellowed, thrusting his head forward, his jaws snapping at her face. Snapping out of her daze not a moment too soon, Rukia managed to raise _Sode no Shirayuki_ up in front of her face horizontally, watching the crazed arrancar bite down on the blade savagely. She tried to push the blade forward, hoping to shear off the top half of his head, but he held the blade firmly between his teeth, preventing it from moving.

Rukia struggled against his iron grip as he held her pinned to the wall, trying to wriggle herself free at any cost, even if it meant leaving her zanpaktou trapped between his teeth, but nothing worked; he had the advantage of size and strength and she wasn't going anywhere unless he allowed it.

And then, the crazed beast finally seemed to remember that he too had a zanpaktou as he raised it menacingly, preparing to run the petite shinigami through and staple her to the wall.

"You don't want to do this!" she told him, but she could see the madness glinting in his eyes and though he couldn't speak with _Sode no Shirayuki_ trapped between his teeth, she knew his answer.

_ Yes, I do, yes, I do!_

* * *

When he had parted ways with the scout team a few minutes ago to return to the Seireitei and round up reinforcements, Ashido Kanō had not expected anything to be wrong other than a malfunctioning radio tower. He was quite surprised, unpleasantly surprised, to see pillars or smoke and random fires burning throughout the city as the gates opened.

"Lieutenant Kanō!" exclaimed one of the guards posted at the gate. "Thank goodness you're back! Where's the rest of the scout team?"

"Occupied…" said Kanō, slowly taking in the sights and sounds of the besieged city. "I came back to secure reinforcements, actually."

"We don't have any to spare," said the other guard. "We're getting hammered here!"

Ashido eyed one of the suspicious piles of black ash scattered around the gate, kneeling down and picking some of the coarse substance up and rubbing it between his fingers.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked suspiciously.

"They're _togabito_, sir, sinners from Hell," answered the first guard. "I don't know how they got out, but…"

"No wonder the radio is down…" muttered Ashido, dropping the handful of ash and standing back up. "I'm guessing Yamamoto is still in the world of the living, unaware of this."

"Lieutenant Nel left a little while ago, said she was going to go secure us help," explained the second guard, "but she went to Karakura instead of Tokyo. I don't know what she thinks she's doing, but if she's finding reinforcements, I hope she hurries."

"Damn it," hissed Ashido. "Looks like the rest of the team will have to hold out just a little while longer… If we can stop this invasion and kill all the intruders, the Kushanāda should retreat back into the underworld."

"The Kushanāda?" echoed the guards simultaneously. "Jesus, are you saying they're in the world of the living?!"

"Unfortunately," answered Ashido. "But if we can quell the invasion here, their search should end."

"I think that may be easier said than done, sir."

"We'll see…" said Ashido grimly, drawing his zanpaktou and heading away from the gate, towards the center of the Seireitei. "Hold the gate; I'm going to go check on Division 5 and Captain Abarai."

* * *

Hanatarō Yamada was not built for combat.

This was not a new development, nor was it surprising to any who knew the timid medic; he was small and scrawny, jumpy, and his spiritual pressure was downright pathetic. His only strengths were his kind heart and his rather exceptional medical skills, but both were things that did little to no good in any kind of real fight. It had led to him being relegated to a support role during Ichigo Kurosaki's rescue of Rukia and during the entirety of the Winter War and now here he was in the middle of a combat zone with no one to protect him.

The Seireitei wasn't supposed to be a combat zone, of course; it was supposed to be secure, safe. It was _home_, and if there was any place in the universe where a person should feel safe, it was in their home.

His captain, Retsu Unohana, had taken Lieutenant Kotetsu and gone to the mountains of the Rukon earlier in the day to gather medicinal herbs that grew in the wild, leaving Hanatarō with no one to turn to for orders or support.

He had _tried_ to seek out someone in command from another squad, but everywhere he turned he found shinigami locked in life-or-death combat with the invaders or he'd find a wandering togabito looking for a fight.

A fight was the _last_ thing Hanatarō wanted, which translated to him doing a _lot_ of running.

He was tired, every muscle in his tiny frame screaming in pain, the soles of his feet sore from the constant fleeing, but he felt pretty sure he was finally, mercifully safe.

He'd found a small supply shed to hide in, one of several clustered together, though he didn't even know which division he was in anymore; he had gotten so lost and confused as he ran from the last togabito that he had ended up simply following every empty-looking path he came across in the winding maze of streets.

He panted for breath, clutching his chest and feeling his heart frantically pounding in his chest. The adrenaline was still surging through his system and his fight or flight reflexes were in overdrive, urging him to abandon the shed and keep running far, far away.

"No," he told himself as he gasped for breath, "I won't run. I'm safe here.. All I have to do is…"

He trailed off as he heard movement outside, paling as it realized it was the togabito from earlier.

Hanatarō swallowed nervously and cupped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from accidentally making a sound and alerting the murderous creature to his presence.

"I know you're here somewhere…" said a soft voice outside and Hanatarō could just barely hear him opening the doors of one of the other sheds. "Please don't be difficult; I will make it fast."

Quietly, the medic tiptoed around to hide behind a stack of crates in the shed, crouching low in the shadows and hoping that when the togabito got around to checking this particular shed, he wouldn't notice the terrified shinigami.

"I can smell your sweat and fear," explained the voice, opening another shed, closer this time. "You are only delaying the inevitable."

There was a sound in the building beside Hanatarō's that sounded like the togabito was actively upturning boxes and crates in search of his prey.

"My time in the pit has dulled my senses from the constant exposure to sulfur, but make no mistake, I will find you," continued the togabito. "Master Nnoitra told me to make myself useful and to stay out of his way; killing small shinigami like you will accomplish both."

Hanatarō's knees were shaking now as the Damned, an arrancar, could be heard standing just outside the door to his particular shed.

"You're in here, aren't you?" asked the voice. "Please come out; the easier you make this on me, the quicker and more painless I will make your end.

Hanatarō remained hidden, hoping against hope.

There was a resigned sigh as the door finally opened and the arrancar entered the shed. Footsteps sounded against the wooden floor, slow and steady towards the crates Hanatarō was hiding behind.

"You are only making things worse for yourself," stated the arrancar as Hanatarō quietly scampered around the far side of the crate, staying low and hoping he could make it to the door before the arrancar noticed him.

"Where do you think you are going, soul reaper?" asked the voice quietly and Hanatarō didn't even need to turn around to know the arrancar was staring straight at him.

He abandoned all pretense of stealth and threw himself towards the open door as fast as he could, hurtling himself outside and going into a sprint, wishing all the while that he had mastered _shunpo_. Maybe, though, his running would be enough, maybe the arrancar would give up and seek out a more-interesting target, maybe he couldn't keep up-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as his feet left the ground, a strong hand gripping the back collar of his shihakushō and hoisting him into the air.

"I promised to be merciful if you surrendered, but you chose to disregard my generosity…" began the arrancar slowly. "This will not be quick, nor will it be painless."

"P-p-please…" Hanatarō stammered, eyes watering. "I'm just a medic! I can't fight!"

"Unfortunate, but you should have accepted my offer," said the creature, flinging him across the yard and up against the hard, stone wall of one of the other sheds. Hanatarō slid down to the ground, dazed and hurt, and he looked up at the taller creature stalking towards him, trying to hide his fear.

"Someone will come for me," he said, trying to stall for time. "I have a lot of friends and-"

"And they are not here to save you."

* * *

"Do you plan to keep running like a coward, Captain?"

Cain's words stung, but Shunsui Kyōraku knew better than to let the ancient and powerful togabito get under his skin and drive him to do something reckless; Cain _wanted_ Shunsui to attack with all his might, he _wanted_ to see the captain inadvertently kill himself.

Shunsui refused to cooperate.

"For the moment, yes; that's my exact plan," he answered casually. "Seems like the most prudent thing to do, given that you appear to be unkillable."

"Not much of a strategy," remarked Cain, slashing at Shunsui with his stolen zanpaktou, but the shinigami nimbly dodged the deadly blade.

"Well, I figure if I can stay alive long enough, I'll come up with a plan that'll actually, you know, _kill_ you," explained Shunsui. "So really, I think it's a pretty good strategy."

"Except that you _can't_ kill me, fool," spat Cain. "Haven't you learned yet? Your attacks only hurt _you_, not me. How many self-inflicted wounds do you have now?"

"Ten, but who's counting?"

"Haven't you learned anything from your failures?" asked The Old One, lunging at the captain. Shunsui simply jumped over the thrust and, seeing that Cain had overextended himself, deftly landed on the togabito's back and jumped off, somersaulting through the air to land some distance away. He rolled his shoulders as he landed, feeling the impact of his own feet on his back.

"I guess that makes eleven, doesn't it?" asked Cain, slowly turning to face his enemy.

"I'm not sure that one really counts," Shunsui reasoned. "It wasn't really an attack."

"Arguing semantics?" laughed Cain humorlessly. "That reeks of desperation, Captain; you're simply stalling, but for _what?_ You can't hurt me, you can't beat me, you can't stop me! What keeps you going? _Why_ do you persist?"

"Faith," answered the soul reaper with a shrug. "Faith that my friends and comrades will win their battles. Faith that I _will_ find a way to defeat you."

"You have no hope!" snarled the togabito, attacking the captain with savage fury.

Shunsui was an expert swordsman, though, and Cain was not; the captain easily blocked and deflected blow after blow, never once taking a defensive step backwards, which served only to stoke the fires of Cain's fury further.

"Even if you can hold me off for another ten minutes, or ten _hours_, your friends are all going to die," hissed Cain. "The Seireitei _will_ fall today and we will be free forever. Why resist?"

"Faith," Shunsui said simply.

"In _what?!_" shrieked Cain.

"My _other_ friends."

* * *

In all of his forty years as a soul reaper, Hisaki Okawa had never seen the Seireitei in this kind of shape.

He remembered the Winter War quite vividly, but the walls of the Seireitei had been up then in anticipation of an invasion, keeping the enemy outside; today the walls had not been in place because there had been no cause to think there was any danger. He remembered the _ryoka_ invasion before the War, the one that revealed Aizen's treachery, and how the humans had infiltrated the city and caused chaos, but even that paled in comparison to the carnage currently taking place.

He was standing guard at the Senkaimon with Keiji Tobe, an old friend who had been party of his class in the academy so many decades ago. Both men were injured, having already fought off several togabito who had sought to take control of the gates, and Hisaki knew that had gotten off lucky; he knew there were much stronger enemies elsewhere in the city, fighting the captains tooth and nail for control.

It had been a relief to see Lieutenant Kanō return to the Seireitei, but that relief had quickly faded when they realized that the rest of the scout team wasn't with him; one lieutenant wouldn't be enough to make a significant impact on the war raging in the city.

Lieutenant Nel had disappeared through the Senkaimon some time ago to go get help, but what help was there to be had?

He had been wary about the appointment of an arrancar lieutenant nearly three years ago, but the green-haired woman had done much during her tenure and had garnered a great deal of respect within the Gotei 12, but Hisaki found himself wondering if she had abandoned her post and fled to safety…

After all, what reason did she have to stick her neck out for the shinigami? Hollows and soul reapers had been at war with one another since time immemorial and it was a feud that would never end; she had no reason to fight and die alongside them. Sure, she had married her captain, but was a hollow, a creature that by definition lacked a heart, even _capable_ of really loving someone? There was no reason to expect her to stay behind for Captain Ushii's sake anymore than there was for her to help the rest of the shinigami.

"I don't think she's coming back…" he muttered, shaking his head. "She ran away, left us to fight and die here while she hides somewhere safe."

"Lieutenant Nel?" asked Keiji. "Don't talk like that; she'll be back."

"Are you insane?" asked Hisaki. "Why the hell would she come back? She's a _hollow_, for fuck's sake! She doesn't care if the Seireitei falls; she only took an officer's position to gain our trust and she only married Captain Ushii to guarantee her safety and acceptance. Now that we're all going to _die_ here, she doesn't need us anymore."

"We've been over this before," said Keiji, gritting his teeth in irritation at his friend. "I get that most hollows are bad, but Nel isn't like that; she wouldn't abandon us or her captain."

"You're just sentimental because you used to be in Squad 13 until you transferred to Squad 2," said Hisaki, shaking his head. "You're in denial."

"I only transferred here so I could work with my friend, but sometimes I wonder if that was a mistake," Keiji shot back. "You take every opportunity you get to run down Lieutenant Nel just because she's a hollow. I'm telling you, she _will_ be back."

"You're as blind as that idiot who married her," said Hisaki. "When the togabito converge on us here in force and we die, just remember that I told you so."

"Don't talk shit about Captain Ushii, either," snapped Keiji defensively. "You don't understand a damn thing about what it was like working for either one of them!"

"Don't want to, either," said Hisaki. "I like having a lieutenant who's not likely to eat me."

"If you don't watch your mouth…" began Keiji threateningly, trailing off as the Senkaimon slowly slid open. "See? I _told_ you she'd be back!"

He turned to the open gate to welcome the lieutenant back, but the greeting died on his lips when he saw the people standing with her.

"God in Heaven…" muttered Hisaki, taking a couple of steps back from the group and adopting a defensive posture, shaking the entire time.

"Lieutenant?" asked Keiji, his throat going dry at the sight before him.

"It's okay," Neliel assured them gently. "They're here to help."

"Please put your weapons down," said one of the figures, a pale man. "We mean you no harm."

"You weren't kidding, Nel," said another man, this one with unkempt dark brown hair. "I can feel a lot of powerful enemies here.

"Everyone remember the plan?" asked the blonde standing on the other side of Nel.

"Got it," answered the redhead standing beside her quickly.

"Six?" she questioned the last male in the group.

"Yeah, yeah; kill everything that's not a soul reaper. I got it."

"That's not…" said Neliel, "Never mind; let's just go with that."

"Let's _do_ this!" roared 'Six' eagerly, disappearing in the blink of an eye, moving too fast to follow as he headed into the city.

"Psychopath…" muttered one of the others before they all disappeared, each heading off across the Seireitei in a different direction.

Hisaki and Keiji looked at each other for a moment as the Senkaimon's door slowly slid shut. For a moment, neither man said anything. Then, finally, Keiji cracked a slow grin as he looked over at his friend.

"I told you she wouldn't abandon us."

"Yeah…yeah, you did," answered Hisaki. "But…_them?_"

Keiji just shrugged.

"God bless the cavalry."

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

_**Author's Note:** They're heeeere!_

_Thanks to Ryumaju for doing Enjeru's piece; he's still working on Enjeru's solo story, _Road to War_, so please check that out when you have time._

_I just did a rundown of what I have left and I estimate nine more chapters following this one (well, eight plus the epilogue). I'm hopeful I can get #15 out before next Saturday._


	15. Saviors and Secrets

**Saviors and Secrets**

The barracks were in shambles, the division mess hall in flames, the dojo was barely standing, and the small house that Captain Ushii had called home had been reduced to a pile of rubble, but Nnoitra Gilga still just wouldn't die.

To be fair, the arrancar was probably thinking the same thing about the shinigami.

They had been going at each other for a while now and though each had landed good, solid shots, damaging shots, neither man would actually stay down for more than a second. Nnoitra appeared to be in better shape from it all, however, thanks more to his regenerative abilities than anything else, but Anrak's armor had begun to crack, pieces of onyx steel falling away to reveal the black shihakushō and flesh underneath.

"I didn't expect someone who was only ranked as fifth among the Espada to be this strong," Anrak commented, ignoring the blood dripping down the side of his face.

He hadn't necessarily thought it would be an _easy_ fight, nor did he particularly want it to be, but the former Espada was considerably tougher than anticipated.

"Hell has a way of making the strong stronger," sneered Nnoitra. "You don't survive otherwise. You? You wouldn't last a _day_ in the pits, you fucking worm."

He lashed out at Anrak again, six arms, six weapons, six different directions, forcing the soul reaper to focus on protecting his vulnerable head from two of the blades while the other six slammed into his armor body, the very tips of the blades punching through and biting into his flesh. With a grimace, Anrak powered away the blades trying to pierce his skull with his own swords before swinging them both forward at Nnoitra's neck.

The arrancar hopped back out off the way, ripping the four weapons stuck in Anrak's black armor free and exposing his wounds to the night air.

"Looks like you've just about reached the limit of what that shitty suit can do," mocked Nnoitra as a wounded Anrak stepped back away from his enemy, retreating into the shadows.

"It's more resilient than you might think…" said his disembodied voice as Nnoitra scowled bitterly.

"You're fucking _hiding_ now?" demanded the Espada, trying to follow the voice. "Fucking pathetic!"

"Not hiding," replied the shinigami nonchalantly. "Just biding my time."

"For _what? _If you're waiting on that bitch to return with help, you're wasting your time; you ain't going to live long enough to see whoever she brings back. They ain't gonna live long, either!"

"Not waiting on them…" said Anrak, lunging from the shadows behind Nnoitra and slicing him across the back. The arrancar stumbled forward and whirled around, bringing all six of his weapons to bear on the shinigami, but his attack was clumsy and unfocused, allowing Anrak to dodge and weave through the swinging scythes.

"One wound," said Nnoitra. "One wound against your…what the _fuck?_"

He stared at the shinigami, looking for the damage he _knew_ he inflicted earlier; there should be a sizable chunk missing from the side and at least four smaller punctures in the torso, but there was nothing; the armor looked nearly pristine, marred only by the slick spots of blood here and there. The wound in the shinigami's scalp was still present, but why did his body seem unharmed?

"_Yoroi Kage-en_," Anrak reminded him. "Shadowflame armor. Didn't you wonder what it could do?"

"It's fucking _armor_," sneered Nnoitra. "Only sissies need armor."

"You arrancar have your _hierro_, iron skin, by nature; it's pretty much the same as armor. What does that say about you?"

"Don't mock me, you bastard!" raged Nnoitra, launching into a frenzy of rapid-fire attacks from his scythes and forcing the shinigami to back up defensively as he batted away shot after shot.

"Your injuries regenerate quickly, but I'm not as lucky," explained the captain as a few shots impacted his armor but failed to penetrate the black steel. "But as it turns out, my armor can regenerate itself if the conditions are right…"

"Shadows…" muttered Nnoitra.

"Kagi feeds on them, uses them to mend what's broken," confirmed the shinigami. "Fighting me at night is a phenomenally _bad_ idea."

"It doesn't mean _shit_ to me, shinigami!" declared Nnoitra. "It ain't going to save you! I'm going to butcher you slowly and throw your broken body at Nel's feet and I'm going to _laugh_ as she cries. I'm going to keep laughing as I beat her ass into the ground, and I'll _still _be laughing while I fuck the bitch's brains out!"

"Like hell I'm going to allow that…" growled Anrak. "You won't-"

"I already _have_," interrupted Nnoitra with a sick grin. "Didn't you notice? Didn't she _tell_ you?"

"You…" Anrak couldn't find the words for his rage, his body was quivering as he gripped his swords so tightly that his armor gauntlets could be heard cracking under the pressure.

"Maybe she doesn't remember…" Nnoitra mused. "She was barely even conscious at the time…"

"You sick bastard…" Anrak managed to choke out finally.

"It was her own fault," said Nnoitra, clearly enjoying upsetting the shinigami. "Always acting like she was better than me, always bitching about me… I had-"

"_SHUT YOUR MOUTH!_" roared Anrak, flash-stepping forward and driving an armored boot into Nnoitra's midsection. "You son of a bitch… I won't let you touch her again, you hear me? _Never again!_"

The arrancar tumbled end over end through the dirt before skidding to a halt in a low crouch, using his scythes to anchor himself to the ground, the blades gouging out long trenches in the earth.

"I found a sore spot," grinned Nnoitra, coughing as he forced himself to stand. "Does it bother you, thinking about me fucking your woman as she cries?"

"_God damn you!_" roared Anrak in fury, charging forward again in a blind rage. Nnoitra stepped back away from the wild attack and with a quick, calculated moved, plunged all six of his scythes forward at once and succeeded in knocking the deadly obsidian blades free of the shinigami's hands. Anrak barely even had time to realize he'd been disarmed before Nnoitra used the weapons in his lower arms to reach down and sweep the shinigami's legs out from under him.

Anrak fell backwards onto the ground with a grunt as Nnoitra placed a foot on his chest to hold him down, grinning madly the entire time.

"Huh, what d'ya know? Bitch was right about one thing; lettin' your emotions get the best of you in a fight is a bad, bad thing."

He used his lower set of scythes to hold Anrak's arms down against the ground, the dull backside of the blades pressing hard against his armored wrist as he raised his four remaining weapons into the air menacingly.

"I'm going to chip away at your stupid armor piece by piece and hack your body up real good," he said, face twisting in perverse pleasure. "I want Nel to be able to just _barely_ recognize you. Who knows? Whore might be so upset that she won't even fight back. Maybe she'll even moan out your name as I take her and then pass her around to the others!"

"I told you, I won't allow it!" snarled Anrak, straining his arms against the pressure of Nnoitra's scythes holding them down. With a grunt, he managed to turn his hands over, palms facing upwards in the arrancar's general direction. "Hadō #63, _Raikōhō!_"

Nnoitra barely managed to jump back in time as twin blasts of golden lightning erupted forth from the downed captain's palms, firing up into the night sky and briefly illuminating the Seireitei.

Nnoitra curled his lip in annoyance as he looked at the charred ends of his overly-long, greasy hair, realizing just how close that attack had been as Anrak sprung back to his feet.

"You'll never hurt her again," said Anrak icily. "I told you earlier; I'm going to tear your ugly head off!"

* * *

Tōshirō Hitsugaya had been forced to overcome many obstacles over the course of his afterlife and his career, mostly stemming from his age or his relatively small stature for his age, but he had conquered them all with the strength and grace befitting a captain of the Gotei 13. He had overcome foes that were stronger and more-experienced in the past, but the togabito before him was proving to be more formidable than any he'd faced since the war.

Hanging in the air behind him _should_ have been two purple ice flowers with four petals apiece, signifying how much of his power was left, but instead there was one complete flower and a stray petal and a half. He panted heavily turning his head slightly just in time for his peripheral vision to see the half petal crumble away into nothingness.

"I admire your tenacity, young Captain," said Cao Cao pleasantly, "but as you can see, your efforts are futile. Those flowers, they represent your remaining strength, do they not?"

Hitsugaya turned back to face the Chinese soul, glaring at him.

"Don't think that you've won just yet," he said. "I have more than enough left to finish this fight."

"Such misplaced bravado…" sighed Cao, darting forward and attacking the ice captain. "Simply admit defeat and, out of respect for your courage, I will make your end swift and painless."

"Not a chance!" declared Hitsugaya, deflecting a head strike from Cao's mainhand weapon before quickly shifting direction and blocking a shot from the offhand that would have opened up his stomach. He saw the Cao raise his mainhand again and acting quickly, the captain flung the ice-coated chain attached to _Hyōrinmaru's _hilt up and snared Cao's wrist, yanking the raised arm down prematurely and causing the deadly blade to miss the shinigami entirely.

Cao did not resist the sudden pull on his wrist, letting his body flow with it and propel him into a full spin, coming around and bringing his right leg up and then back down, aiming to break Hitsugaya's shoulder. Hitsugaya's reaction was instant, raising his right ice wing up to block the downward kick, but Cao's strength shattered the brittle wing and connected with the shinigami's shoulder with enough force to knock him from the sky and send him plummeting back down to the unforgiving ground.

Tōshirō turned his body as he fell, trying to regain control and stop himself, but he quickly saw that there wasn't enough time. Steeling himself for the impact, he turned his body just enough to raise his remaining left wing and used it to soften his landing. He hit the ground hard, the wing exploding as it hit the concrete of the Division 10 commons area, and he felt his left shoulder give a sickening wet _pop_ as it was knocked out of place.

"Damn…" hissed the injured captain, pushing himself up to a knee and cradling his dislocated arm.

"And this, dear Captain, is the end," said Cao, his voice containing a small degree of remorse. "A fine effort on your part, but you never had any hope of defeating someone with my experience. Farewell, young Hitsugaya."

Cao began to descend towards the wounded shinigami, frightfully fast, his twin broadswords held out as he prepared to slice clean through-

-and once again, Tōshirō's peripheral vision caught sight of something…_unexpected_.

There was a flash of movement, something or someone moving at a speed that surpassed Cao's own, darting past the captain and into the air to clash head on with the togabito.

"No…" muttered Hitsugaya, dumbstruck. "It's not possible… You're dead…I _saw_ you die!"

But the white uniform, tanned skin, and short, blonde hair of the new arrival was unmistakable, undeniable…

Tia Halibel, Aizen's _tercera_ Espada.

Her unusually short but wide zanpaktou was drawn as she charged at Cao, who seemed every bit as surprised as the young captain to see the new arrival.

"Who are-" he began, only to have her bat away his blades before spinning around and delivering a downward kick identical to the one Hitsugaya had received to Cao Cao's right shoulder with bone-crunching force. The togabito screamed down towards the ground, leaving a fifteen meter wide impact crater at the opposite end of the commons.

The arrancar turned just enough to look at Hitsugaya, her sea-green eyes meeting his own turquoise eyes for a brief moment.

"Can you stand?" she asked him calmly. "I doubt he's going to stay down for long."

Hitsugaya answered by leaning forward and planting his left palm flat against the ground and gritting his teeth as he _forced_ his shoulder back into its socket. Halibel watched him wordlessly, noting a single tear in the corner of his eye as he flexed his arm, his broken ice wings regenerating as he rose back into the sky.

"How are you alive?" asked the shinigami warily.

"Because Aizen failed to kill me," she answered simply. "I don't think we have time to discuss the fine details right now."

Cao Cao pushed himself out of the crater, breathing hard and favoring his right arm as he ascended skyward again, positioning himself across from the captain and the Espada.

"I do not know who you are, dear Lady, but that is a mistake you will regret," growled Cao, clenching his jaw and simply _willing_ his shoulder back into place with sheer muscle power.

"My only regret is that I missed your skull," answered Halibel coolly, raising her weapon defensively.

Tōshirō didn't understand why or how the former Espada still lived, why she was in the Seireitei, or why she was helping him, but he was silently thankful for her timely arrival.

_ Better the devil you know…_

* * *

Of all the myriad ways Rangiku Matsumoto had thought she might one day meet her end, fighting a psychotic Noblewoman-turned-demon with a bizarre vampire fetish was certainly nowhere on the list.

It wasn't that she was unable to land any techniques against the other woman, but rather than nothing she could do was strong enough to put the bloody Countess down for the proverbial count; she shook off devastating kidō spells at pointblank, cuts and slashes healed within seconds, and blunt force attacks like punches and kicks simply lacked the power to do any good. All Rangiku's efforts had done was expose the true ugliness of her opponent; the once beautiful Noblewoman was, bit by bit, degenerating into a withered, demonic creature.

"Hag," breathed Rangiku, backing away as she held _Haineko_ out with her right arm defensively, her damaged left arm hanging limply at her side.

"You think I _want_ to look like this?" hissed Erzsébet, her voice cracking and becoming shrill. "This is why I need blood. This is what Hell has done to me!"

"You did this to yourself," countered Rangiku. "Your obsession with blood made your physical appearance match your corrupt soul."

With an animalistic snarl, Erzsébet stepped closer and batted _Haineko_ out of Rangiku's weakened grip, sending the zanpaktou skidding across the ground before using her own slender, elegant sword to impale Rangiku's wounded left shoulder, pinning her against the wall.

The air was thick and suffocating enough already, had been steadily growing worse for the past several seconds, and the sword jammed into her shoulder served only to make things worse. Rangiku cried out, gasping as she weakly tried to pull the blade free with her right hand, but the effort was useless.

"You're losing too much blood to be of any use to me now," said the Countess, showing off a hideous, sharp toothed smile full of yellowed teeth. "Still, I'm going to _enjoy_ this more than you will know…"

An eerie green rain began to fall and Rangiku scowled defiantly at the pseudo-vampire creature before her.

"I hope you _choke_ on it," said Rangiku as the Countess plunged her open maw towards Rangiku's neck, preparing to tear out her throat. The shinigami braced herself for the end, but the end never came; in one instant, Erzsébet's wickedly-sharp dagger-like teeth were a hair's width away from her throat, and the next instant the disfigured woman was flying across the street and into a wall, leaving Rangiku staring at someone new, someone who definitely wasn't a soul reaper.

"Allow me," said the tall, pale figure softly, reaching for the hilt of the sword still jammed through her shoulder. "Relax."

He pulled the slender weapon free quickly, easily, discarding it over his shoulder and pressing a hand against the wound forcefully to stymie the bleeding. He nodded at the lieutenant's insignia hanging from her sash. "Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto, I presume?"

She nodded slowly, still unsure about what exactly was going on.

"W-who _are_ you?" she asked, confused. She took a good, hard look at the man, noting his features; the pale face, the long, black hair, the green eyes, the boney, horn-like protrusions coming from his head that looked suspiciously like a broken hollow mask, and the massive black bat-like wings she could now see protruding from his back.

As if dealing with togabito wasn't enough…

"Arrancar…" she breathed, swallowing hard. Wonderful; now she was going to be killed by a Hollow rather than a crazy vampire bitch.

Well, at least death by hollow had been a possibility on her list…

"Ulquiorra Cifer," said the man with a slight bow of his head as he withdrew his hand. "You should keep pressure on the wound while I deal with this…creature."

"Ulquiorra?" echoed Rangiku, knowing that name. "You…_you're_ the one who kidnapped Orihime! You're one of Aizen's Espada!"

"_Was_ one of Aizen's Espada," corrected Ulquiorra as he turned his back to her, patiently waiting for the Countess to dig herself out of the collapsed wall.

"If you're here to destroy the Seireitei-"

"The others and I are here to help," he interrupted her. "It is imperative that you survive; Orihime speaks highly of you and would be most distraught if her…'_bosom buddy'_ were to die. I cannot allow that to happen."

"Others?"

"Others," confirmed Ulquiorra simply as Erzsébet plucked herself free from the wall and bent down to retrieve her black sword, which had landed at her feet from the arrancar's casual dismissal of it.

"You _freak!_" shrieked Erzsébet in rage. "I'm going to tear _both_ of you to pieces!"

Ulquiorra spread his black wings out dramatically, screening Rangiku's view of the demonic woman and vice versa.

"If you wish to harm Miss Matsumoto, you will have to go through me first."

* * *

If there was one good thing about having her zanpaktou tightly wedged in-between the deranged arrancar's teeth, it was that she didn't have to hear his maddening cackle any more.

The downside, of course, was that she couldn't actually _use_ her zanpaktou for anything given its current predicament.

The crazed, hyena-like arrancar still held Rukia tightly against the wall, struggling to try and bite her face off with nothing but _Sode no Shirayuki_ standing in his way. His sharp teeth bit into the blade with terrifying force and Rukia swore she could actually see them slowly penetrating the steel of the zanpaktou. She held the weapon out horizontally, struggling with all her might to keep his dangerous jaws away from her petite form, but she didn't think she could last much longer.

An unwelcome cracking sound from _Sode no Shirayuki_ told her the zanpaktou wouldn't last much longer, either.

The arrancar's mismatched eyes, green and animal yellow, shone brightly in the moonlight and Rukia could see that he knew the struggle was almost over, too.

"I'm not going out like this," Rukia choked out defiantly as fractures could be seen running throughout the blade of her zanpaktou. "I _will_ find a way to beat you!"

She could almost _hear_ him laughing around the zanpaktou.

The cracking sound got louder.

If she took her left hand away from bracing her zanpaktou, she could fire a kidō into the savage beast's face, but doing so would render her unable to keep his jaws at bay if it failed…

She also wasn't sure she could fire a spell off before he managed to overpower her completely in the split-second.

The fractures spreading throughout _Sode no Shirayuki's_ blade were too numerous to count now and she had to make a decision fast before-

*_**CRUNCH!***_

The inhumanly-powerful jaws of the arrancar finally shattered the zanpaktou, sending fragments of steel and ice flying about the air as his he literally _ate_ the pieces of steel remaining in his mouth. The sickening _crunch crunch crunch_ as he ground the remnants of the blade to dust and swallowed them filled Rukia with a sense of dread as she remembered his promises to "crush your bones" and "eat your face."

The arrancar gave a twisted, psychotic grin before opening his mouth…and time appeared to slow as a hand appeared on the side of his face, fingers partially covering his face. With a yelp, the arrancar released his grip on Rukia, allowing her to slide to the ground…but she never removed her eyes from the strange phenomena of the hand, which proceeded to jerk the beast over closer to the wall before slamming his ugly head into it again and again.

More laughter filled the air again, definitely psychotic, but definitely _not_ belonging to the warped Hyena-like arrancar.

The hand finally plowed the arrancar's head into the wall one last time before releasing him, letting the bloody but still intact skull catch a breather.

"Picking on fucking _girls_, Rondare?" laughed the new voice. "How pathetic _are_ you?"

Coming out of her daze, Rukia turned her head to view the new arrival, noting as she did so that she recognized that voice from somewhere…

"Oh, God…" she swallowed as she finally saw her 'savior' in his entirety; white, open jacket revealing a muscular torso with a hole through the stomach, wild blue hair, a partial mask on the right side of his face… "Grimmjow…"

At the mention of his name, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the _sexta_ Espada of the late Sōsuke Aizen's army turned to face her, a confused look on his face.

"Not you…" Rukia muttered, her mouth going dry. "Not again…"

"The fuck are you talking about woman?" he demanded. "Do I know you or something?"

"You…you tried to _kill _me!" she exclaimed.

He just shrugged as if he didn't know what she was babbling about.

"You shoved a hand through my stomach!" Rukia tried again.

"Not really narrowing things down…" Grimmjow said in irritation.

"In Karakura," Rukia tried once more, incensed that he had forgotten something as major as _trying to murder her_. "And then Ichigo-"

"Wait!" said Grimmjow suddenly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of Ichigo's name. "I remember now! You're Kurosaki's woman, aren't you?" He looked around excitedly, grinning madly as he cracked his knuckles. "Where is that prick? I'm kicking his ass next!"

"You came all the way here just to kill Ichigo?" said Rukia, climbing back to her feet and holding out the broken hilt of her zanpaktou threateningly. "I won't let-"

"I said 'kick his ass,' not kill him," interrupted the _sexta_. "Nel told us to kill everything that's _not_ a soul reaper."

"Nel did _what?_" asked Rukia, violet eyes going wide. "What does Lieutenant Nel have to do with this?"

"You idiot," sneered Grimmjow as the dazed Hyena slowly got back up, shaking his head to clear the ringing. "Isn't it obvious? We're here to save your sorry asses!"

"I don't…"

"Jesus, how fucking stupid _are_ you?" asked an exasperated Grimmjow. "Nel came to us all beat up and begging for help, so yeah, here we are, saving your stupid asses. You're fucking _welcome_, by the way."

"Grimmjow, Grimmjow, Grimmjow…" said the Hyena, glaring at the _sexta_. "That hurt, yes, it did, yes, it did!"

"Yeah?" grinned Grimmjow maliciously. "That's only the beginning. I'm going to do what we should have done _years_ ago and wipe your stupid, annoying ass _out!_"

* * *

Hanatarō felt at least three ribs break as the merciless arrancar drove the toes of his boot into the shinigami's midsection and sent him bouncing across the debris-covered ground for a dozen meters, and he couldn't help but cry out in pain and fear as he realized that this was it, this was the end.

On some level, he felt blessed to have survived as long as he had, to have had so many adventures, and to have made so many friends… He was proud of his role, however minor it had been, in saving Rukia from being executed, honored to have been a small part of both assaults on Los Noches… Yes, it had been a good life, all things considered, and while he had narrowly escaped death countless times before, he knew that his luck had finally run out.

"If you had surrendered, this would not be necessary," said the arrancar softly as he walked towards the downed shinigami. "I take no pleasure in this."

"If that were true," wheezed Hanatarō, spitting up a mouthful of blood, "you wouldn't be doing it."

"Perhaps I do derive a small amount of enjoyment from it, then," admitted the arrancar as he hoisted Hanatarō into the air by his hair. "As Master Nnoitra says, it is the job of the strong to destroy the weak, and you are much weaker than I."

Hanatarō had no answer as he grimaced in pain and weakly reached up to try and pry himself loose from the blonde arrancar's unforgiving grip.

"Perhaps I should break your legs next…" mused the arrancar. "Or your fingers, one by one. Maybe I should-"

"_LET HIM GO!_" cried a voice as a small foot came flying out of nowhere and smashed itself into the Damned's nose, shattering it in a spray of crimson and forcing him to drop the injured medic as he stumbled backwards.

Hanatarō hit the ground roughly, every last ounce of air in his lungs being driven from his body as his broken ribs impacted against his lungs painfully. He pushed himself up, gasping for oxygen as he looked towards his hero…

…who was a girl no bigger than he was.

The hole in the center of her stomach and the horned, helmet-like remains of a hollow mask identified her as another arrancar…but why had she saved him?

"You better get out of here," she said to him briefly. "I can take him!"

She reached up towards her helmet and pulled on the one broken horn, pulling out a scimitar-like zanpaktou as she positioned herself between Hanatarō and the other arrancar.

Now the medic was _really_ confused.

"Are you…" he began, panting, "Are you here to _help_ us?"

"That's right!" exclaimed the girl proudly, her one visible pink-colored eye twinkling. "If I'm going to be a soul reaper like Nel one day, I can't let these _jerks_ destroy the Soul Society!"

"Neliel is a soul reaper now?" questioned the other arrancar, wiping the blood from his nose.

"She's a lieutenant!" said the smaller hollow. "And I'm going to follow in her footsteps!"

"Still with the blind hero worship…" said the other arrancar as his nose finally stopped gushing blood. "I assure you, Lilynette, you do not want to be like Neliel."

"Your butthole 'Master' is the one who cracked Nel's mask and threw her out of Los Noches," said the girl bitterly. "We know all about it now!"

"We?" echoed the other arrancar, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, _we!_ I didn't come here alone! Halibel and Starrk and Ulquiorra and Tyn and Grimmjow-"

The blonde man narrow his eye hatefully at the last two names, prompting a mean-spirited grin from the girl.

"That's right; Tyn and Grimmjow and Linn interrogated you about Nel's disappearance, didn't they?" she taunted. "Which one of them was it that tore out your eye again, Tesla?"

"Linn _would_ have been punished for his part in that after the battle is over, but he chose to run and hide," said Tesla, ignoring the question. "But Tyn and Grimmjow… I shall have to finish with this soul reaper quickly and find them."

"You're not finishing anything, Tesla!" declared the Lilynette. "I'm going to kick your ass and if you can't beat _me_, what chance do you have against the _real_ Espada?"

"You talk big…and foolishly. You are _nothing_ without Starrk to protect you, little one."

"I'm going to make you _eat_ those words, you ugly dumbass!"

* * *

Every person had a limit. Every _ability_ had a limit. Power, however great, always had a limit. Limits may not be known, they may be so far away that they may as well be invisible, but make no mistake, limits were always there. It was logical to assume that the greater the power, the faster it would reach its limit and it had been that singular thought which had made Shunsui Kyōraku try to kick The Old One one more time.

He had hoped that Cain had expended enough energy to be vulnerable now, that his ability to reflect damage would, at the very least, be diminished.

"So much for _that_ idea…" muttered Shunsui as he picked himself up off the ground.

He'd been playing defensively for most of the fight, blocking and dodging attack after attack, running and forcing Cain to chase him, doing his best to wear the togabito down, but the limits to Cain's power still could not be found.

"If you were going to try and attack me again, I wish you'd have used your swords, Captain," said Cain, sounding annoyed that the fight wasn't over yet. "I'm not a fan of chasing down cowards."

"Strategizing is not cowardice, my friend," corrected Shunsui, ducking and rolling away from an abrupt slash aimed at his head.

His hat didn't make it.

The straw hat fell to the ground in two pieces and Shunsui frowned deeply, openly mourning the loss of his favorite hat.

"That was uncalled for," he said softly. "What did my hat ever do to you?"

"It was an eyesore, Captain, just like _you_," snarled Cain, attacking again.

"You're getting progressively ruder as this fight drags on," observed Shunsui calmly. "Is that a sign that you're weakening?"

"I _never_ weaken" answered Cain, battling against the captain with raw strength in place of any type of skill or training. "You don't get it, do you? This gift is also a curse; I don't get weaker, I don't lose energy, and I _can't be killed_. That's why I was stuck in Hell for so long; nothing, not even the Kushanāda, could kill me or wear me down. I was destined to languish in the pits for all of eternity!"

"Well, you did kind of murder your brother…"

"Don't you think I _know_ that?" demanded Cain. "Every God-damned day is a reminder of that! My invincibility ensures that my torment will never end!"

"Unless this little takeover succeeds…" said Shunsui.

"Peace, at long last…" agreed Cain. "No more fire, no more screams echoing up from the pits,, no more darkness, no more unbearable stench of sulfur… For the first time, I have a chance to _maybe_ enjoy my curse."

"Well, that defeats the purpose of being cursed in the first place, doesn't it?"

"I don't expect a privileged brat like you to understand," said Cain in disgust. "You're too much like my brother; the favorite son, the one _everyone_ loves."

"I'm sorry you feel like everyone hates you, but I assure you I don't," offered the captain diplomatically as he continued to hop away from Cain's wild attacks. "I don't think I hate anyone, really. There's a few others in the Seireitei who are also incapable of hate, so-"

"And I don't care!" snapped Cain. "I don't want your pity or concern. I don't want your friendship or your forgiveness. I just want your _life!_"

"Sorry, kind of using it at the moment."

With a frustrated scream, Cain hefted his stolen zanpaktou up and hurled it at the captain like a javelin with all of his might. The blade streaked through the air, but it never made contact as a blur of movement appeared in front of Shunsui and batted the sword away, sending it careening through the air before it eventually embedded itself into the downward slope of a nearby roof.

"I was wondering when you'd get here…" Shunsui drawled with a smirk at the new arrival.

"Shut it," said the other man, "I was _supposed_ to go on a date tonight, but here I am, keeping you from getting stabbed instead."

"Sorry about that, Starrk," offered Shunsui sincerely. "Didn't mean to inconvenience you."

"Next time you need saving, wait until I'm at work; I'll be happy to come bail you out then," sighed Coyote Starrk.

"Who the hell are _you?_" demanded Cain. "You weren't part of our invasion group and you're not a shinigami."

"Coyote Starrk, _primera_ Espada," said the other man. "And you're the one I should _really_ be irritated at, aren't you?"

"Primera?" asked Cain slowly. "As in 'number one?' The first?"

"Yeah," said Starrk, pulling off the glove on his left hand and showing the tattoo to the togabito.

"Well, isn't this a cute little party?" sneered Cain. "Yamamoto's favored son, Aizen's favored son, and little old me…"

"Actually, Aizen didn't-" began Starrk only to have Shunsui put a hand on his shoulder and shake his head.

"Just let it go; I don't really think he's going to listen, anyway," he informed his friend.

"So, why is it that you're still fighting this guy, anyway?" asked Starrk. "He doesn't _look_ particularly strong and I know better than most just how powerful you really are, so what's the hold up?"

"Well, there's a tiny problem…" Shunsui began as Cain lunged at the new arrival, fist drawn back for a devastating punch to Starrk's jaw. The Espada quickly deflected the incoming blow and drove the point of his elbow into the togabito's face, aiming to shatter his nose…

…only to have his own nose explode, blood flying everywhere.

"Yeah, I think I see that problem you mentioned…" Starrk said, coughing out blood and snot as he backed away from the togabito.

"I'm going to rip that tattoo off after you're dead, arrancar," promised Cain darkly. "The only question left is if I'm going to kill you, or if you two are going to kill yourselves?"

* * *

The big, stupid meathead that called itself Reiger Moncrief simply would not cooperate; he would not bruise, he would not bleed, he would not stay down, and most importantly, he would not die. He was a tank, pure and simple, a juggernaut that simply would not stop and it was really starting to grate on Sui-Feng's last nerve; when a master assassin faces you, your sole job in life is to just _die_ like a good little victim.

Apparently, no one had informed Moncrief of this.

Their battle had traveled deeper into Division 12, leaving the two to slug it out near the shattered remains of the communications building and the sole transmission tower that was still standing, albeit barely.

According to her count, she had attempted to stab him with _Suzumebachi _some three dozen times now, but each attack had ended when the tip failed to penetrate his iron-like skin. Similarly, _countless_ kicks and punches had done little more than leave the petite captain with bruised fists and sore feet. Kidō blasts in his eyes had worked for a little while, kind of; they did no real damage, but they had temporarily blinded the big buffoon…at least until he learned to close his eyes any time she even _attempted_ a kidō spell.

Perhaps worst of all was the fact that the ugly, monobrowed Neanderthal was himself a professional fighter and he knew how to adjust to his opponents better than most; he had begun to read the captain's movements, predict her attacks…

His speed was still no match for hers, but his ability to adapt to her fighting style was troubling.

Very troubling when he managed to turn on a dime and plow a massive fist into her midsection during what _should_ have been a kick to the back of his skull.

Sui-Feng's body curled around the fist momentarily as the wind was knocked out of her, eyes going wide as she felt her organs and ribs all collapse inward towards each other. Damn him, that _hurt!_

But…she could adapt, too.

Shutting out the pain, she grabbed his wrist and flipped herself forward, putting all of her strength into a downward kick aimed at the very center of his pointed skull; he had to have some kind of weak point, damn it, and that was as good a place as any to aim for.

Reiger reached up with his other hand and caught her foot as it came down, fingers curling around her ankle tightly and preventing her from fleeing.

""Gotcha, little girl," he sneered, giving a twisted, discolored smile.

"No, you don't!" snarled Sui-Feng shoving her hand in his face and trying to channel a kidō spell.

The boxer merely closed his eyes and spun around, using his grip on her leg to slam her body into a wall, demolishing it entirely.

"Yes, little girl, I _do_," he said, his voice cruel and mocking. "It's over now; you ain't getting' free and I'm just going to keep smashing you and smashing you until you're dead! Then I'm going to keep slamming you around til pieces of you start to fall off!"

To demonstrate his point, he raised her over his head and slammed her down against the battle-scarred ground roughly.

Sui-Feng had been in this predicament earlier, but Moncrief had clearly learned from that little incident.

Damn.

The assassin forced herself to relax, to go limp and _hope_ to minimize the damage as the apish Reiger slammed her into the ground again and again and again.

"Don't bother tryin' to play dead this time, little girl; I ain't gonna fall for it," he told her. "When your arms or your legs break off, maybe _then_ I'll let you go!"

Sui-Feng closed her eyes to block out the sight of his ugly face and the sadistic enjoyment written all over it, desperately trying to think of a way to escape his grasp and win; she could not, _would not_, die to some goddamned _caveman!_

_ Think, Sui-Feng, think!_

Maybe she could-

Wait, what the hell is _that?_

She could sense several new reiatsu signatures throughout the Seireitei, some of them familiar, as if she had encountered them once before, but at the moment she couldn't place them… One signature, a completely unfamiliar one, was headed in her direction at a ludicrously high speed and the closer it came, the more details she could make out.

Dark. Dense. Some shinigami-like elements, but the vast majority of it felt…_hollow._

Her eyes snapped open.

"Arrancar!" she hissed.

"What the hell you talkin-" began Moncrief, only to be suddenly silenced as a _sonido_-assisted flying kick connected with the side of his misshapen face, catching him by surprise and forcing him to release his grip on the captain's leg before he went hurtling across the courtyard at breakneck speed, bouncing across the ground for several dozen meters before coming to a stop in a small shed that promptly collapsed on top of him.

The pile of rubble shifted and a soul reaper, a timid-looking technician from Squad 12, stood up, looked around with wide, frightened eyes, and then ran like hell to get as far away from the battle as possible.

For a moment, his was the only movement to be seen.

Only for a moment.

The rubble shifted again as Reiger Moncrief rose up, looking completely unhurt from his ordeal, but looking completely _pissed_ now.

Sui-Feng looked at him for a moment before finally turning to look at the arrancar, taking a defensive step away from him and preparing for another eminent battle.

The redhead paid her no attention, instead focusing solely on the approaching togabito.

"…and Tia says _I_ have a thick skull…" he muttered.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Sui-Feng the taller arrival, noting the zanpaktou still at his hip and the mask fragments on his jaw. She saw a tattoo on the back of his neck and she craned her head just enough to notice a black five, and her scowl deepened. "Espada…"

"I'm sensing a lot of hostility…" he said finally, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "I'm on your side, in case it wasn't obvious."

"Who the hell said I needed help, especially help from some goddamned _hollow?_"

"That hurts," he said. "Nel asked us to come help you shinigami defend your home, and _this_ is the welcome we get?"

"Lieutenant Odelschwanck-Ushii?" said Sui-Feng, lip curling up. "She _knew_ about surviving Espada and she kept it secret from the rest of us? That damned-"

"Hey," said the arrancar sharply, "she only did it because _we're not the bad guys_. She did it because she knows we just want to be left to live in peace, but she asked us to come out and stop hiding to _save you_."

Sui-Feng blinked, taken aback by the suddenly harsh tone.

"Hate me all you want, but don't talk shit about my Pack," growled the arrancar, turning back to look at Moncrief, who was charging them now.

"Fine," said Sui-Feng finally. "We can talk about it later, maybe _kill_ each other later if we have to, but for right now, let's see you put your money where your mouth is and help me put this abomination of nature down."

"Sounds good to me," agreed the arrancar. "Tyn Tethis, _quinto_ Espada."

"Sui-Feng, Captain of Squad 2," she answered curtly, both individuals dodging to opposite sides an the enraged Moncrief plowed a fist through the air where they had been standing a quarter-second earlier.

The arrancar drew his zanpaktou and beckoned for the hulking togabito.

"Come on, asshole; it's been way too long since I've been allowed to kill something!"

* * *

Linndal Cuchullan wiped his brow as he stood at the top of the mountainous dune, looking down into the trough made between it and another exactly like it. A sense of satisfaction entered him, softening the sense of grief and anger within his breast that the sight of Los Noches' wreckage had seeded within.

In truth, he had not expected to see that. The massive palace created by that snake, Aizen, was easily a five day march across; it had seemed eternal and impregnable, completely and totally invincible. He may have not trusted his liege-lord, but he had loved that castle. It was large and spacious, safe, relatively quiet…

And his friends, his Pack, had been there. Ragtag, contentious, but there, and, what was more, _his._

"And now they're gone." His words fell on the eternal dusk, echoing down into the small canyon. Down below was the small shack built into the side of the dune that he, Cifer, Halibel, Tethis, and that strange Shinigami, the one he had called "friend," had found.

A brief smile tugged the corner of his mouth. He had enjoyed his times with his friends…the thrill of the sparring sessions, the times they had gotten together to eat, to talk…

Linndal shook his head and proceeded to make his way down the dune.

This was all that bastard Aizen's fault; if it wasn't for him, then Nelly would still be around, Linn wouldn't have been executed, and the Espada that made the Pack…

Coyote Starrk and Lilynette Gingerback…

Tia Halibel…

Tyn Tethis…

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez…

They would all still be here…

Hell, even Ulquiorra Cifer, the bootlicker, would be a welcome sight right now.

Linn paused at the foot of the dune, grimacing and rubbing his middle as a ghostly flash of pain lanced through him. Perhaps one of Aizen's stooges _wouldn't_ be so good right at this moment…

"Rot in the Pits, Tosen…" The angry murmur carried on the night air, memory of the wretched betrayal still hot in his gut. He had stumbled upon the blind man completely by accident, had found him wandering next to one of the many chasms lining the floor of Hell, groping his way helplessly along. Deprived of his senses, the former General Director of the Arrancar Army hadn't felt the Mad Hound coming until it was too late.

It was a well-postulated theory among the Damned that these cracks were bottomless.

Linndal Cuchullan had sent Kaname Tosen down to find out firsthand.

Touching a hand upon the hilt of the collapsed _Rabioso _upon his back, the former _Septima_ Espada stood in front of the hovel. The last time he had visited this place had been the first, back when the Quincies had been making trouble for Aizen. A few Arrancar had settled here, where a small spring of bitter-but-drinkable water had come from the sands, and the two massive dunes provided protection from the elements.

It was a good place, quiet, just like he preferred, and out of the way.

No, Linndal Cuchullan could rest here for eternity if he wanted, could be left alone, and could be comfortable. He smiled to himself—it was just exactly what he needed after his execution and Hell.

Linn bent to the spring, ignoring the brackish tang coating his tongue. He shrugged off _Rabioso's_ holster, along with the once-pristine white trenchcoat he favored, grimacing at the state of it; holes and scorchmarks. Linn hadn't even taken it off in the heat of Hell. Seeing it had oftentimes been the only thing protecting him from his madness, along with his Espada tattoo—he had kept the sleeves of the coat rolled up to alleviate the heat and to also showcase the mark of the Seventh Espada. Linn was proud of the fact of what he was, and his rank and his memories kept him grounded.

Kokutō saw this mark as well, and had talked the Arrancar into joining his attempt to get out.

An attempt that Linndal couldn't refuse.

_ 'And speaking of memories…' _Cuchullan took another look around his new grotto. The group that Aizen had sent out so many moons ago had stumbled upon a small family here, murdered in cold blood by the Quincies. The one witness to the attacks, a small Arrancar child by the name of Brönte, had died in the Shinigami's arms…

She had grey eyes, he remembered…

"Grey like Lucy's…" he murmured to himself. Grey like the eyes of the woman he loved in life…eyes he had adored…eyes that had driven him to kill his own brothers—

A growl ripped itself out of his chest, and he bent over the small pool that the spring fed, watching his reflection as his face took on a life of its own, the cool lavender of his eyes taking the sickly, flat yellow of a Hollow, his mouth snarling as his slightly-too-long fangs seemed to grow even more…

And then Linndal came back to normal, forcing the maddening thoughts of his old flame from his mind and instead concentrating upon the face of the little girl Arrancar, replacing the hate with the quiet sadness that the poor thing's passing had brought on. Brushing his long black hair away from his face, he took a deep breath, calming as…

The image of Wolf the Quarrelsome came to his mind…and Reiger Moncrief…and Nnoitra…and the tiny corpse of Brönte opened its eyes and stared at him...its mouth opened and spoke in Kokutō's voice…

_ "Wolf, you can butcher everyone in the Rukon if it'll make you happy!"_

Linndal Cuchullan blinked and looked around.

Nobody was there.

Then why was there the noise of a rage-filled shriek echoing off the hills?

Shaking his head, he got up from by the pool. He really had to do something about his psychosis…perhaps spending a few centuries asleep would-

And then he thought of that little girl again.

And the words of mastermind of the escape echoed in his head again…

_ '…butcher everyone in the Rukon…'_

There were children in the Soul Society…it _was_ the afterlife, after all…and Linndal could bet cash money that Wolf wouldn't be the only one out there…Nnoitra, Moncrief, and even Erzsèbet would be out and about, too…

And he, Linndal Cuchullan, had helped bring them into the closest thing the Realms had to Heaven.

The Mad Hound had helped set the wolves among the sheep.

A wave of nausea hit him then, and Linn stopped in his tracks as his face went pale.

"Empty Night…what have I done?" His eyes went to the inner part of his right forearm, at the gothic black seven, inverted to his eyes, staining his flesh…

The Espada were originally made to protect the world of the Hollows from outside forces, from the Shinigami and the Quincies, and even the Elder Things infesting the darker parts…the original purpose had been lost, but the tales had been passed down. Hell's Bells, even _he_ had been telling the stories to the younger generations of the Espada, those who had been interested at least…

Tia Halibel and Neliel Tu Odelschwanck had absorbed them like sponges.

Baraggan had perverted them, and Aizen had gone and twisted the idea further…but he, Linndal Cuchullan, the oldest Espada, remembered…

And, in his selfishness, his utter absorption in getting out of what was, in all honesty, Linn's rightful place of punishment, the Hound had gone and given over perfectly innocent souls to some of the worst the Realms had to offer.

The Espada were meant to look after their own kind…but did that mean he couldn't help others who needed it?

A hand drifted up as, still staring at his tattoo, Linndal felt the fanged visor on his forehead that constituted his mask. The very thing that made him a Hollow, a Vasto Lorde, had been broken, which made him into a hybrid of Shinigami and Hollow…

Did that not mean that he, as an Arrancar, had one foot in both camps?

Did that not mean he had his duties as an Espada…and the duties of a Shinigami, as well?

Linndal Cuchullan breathed deep, watching the inverted seven ripple as he clenched his fist.

He had no love for the Shinigami…

But the innocents within the Rukon Alleyways deserved better, and he knew, he _knew _Kokutō wouldn't restrain his warriors from looting, destroying, murdering, _devouring…_

So much senseless death and suffering…

Just like little Brönte.

"No," he muttered. "No. I won't let that happen."

_ Septima_ Espada Linndal Cuchullan, the Mad Hound, stalked over to his coat and weapon. He snatched them up, thrusting his arms through the sleeves and hastily fastening the harness on his back.

He was the Last Espada now, all that was left of a mighty warrior legacy. He had a responsibility, a duty, to rectify his mistake, to send those he had helped to escape back where they belonged.

Tightening his fingerless gloves a bit, the Hound tapped the air in front of him. A gust of ice-cold air from the _Garganta_ blew back his long hair as he took a strip of leather from his pocket.

"Alright," he muttered as he tied the strands into a loose ponytail. Linn then twisted his neck side-to-side and leapt into the maw, hitting the empty blackness running, an insane smile twisting his features as his eyes turned that same sickly gold.

"Time to hunt."

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

_**Author's Note:** Thanks to Ziggy for that last piece with Linn, and apologies to all for being later than intended; I've gotten a tad sidetracked with Assassin's Creed IV lately. Arrr, mateys!_


End file.
